Callyx

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Rook – Town Edges, Afternoon

Rook had spent some time resting, he happily drank the water that was provided to him by Adam. Rook sat in his shack for a few hours to let everything recover. Even he got tired, and it was something that he was always happy to feel. Being able to work hard to help aid the town was something that he wanted to do. Standing up, he walked to shore edge. There was a number of things he wanted to do now.

Grabbing the tool box he had found some years ago, he headed out. He walked to the barge that was on the coast. He spent some time walking onto it, being careful and looking at how it was set on the sand. He grabbed the shovel that he carried with him, working the sand off the edge of it and then walking to the front of the barge. Setting down the tool box, he opened it up and popped his neck as he pulled out the hack saw.

“Ok boat... We are going to break away from other boat. We are going to go down the shore. We need to get crates to help build wall.” He said to the steel cables, starting to saw them slowly, putting scoring marks on them. With a nod, he would go back to the tool box, pulling out the torch.

When he cut through the cables, he used the torch to weld the other cables to this one. It didn't take too long with this one. He was glad. The torch was nearly empty by the time he was done. He would need to get another one before too long. Still, it did it's job. He walked back to his shack, grabbing his bracers and chest armor. It took a moment to get it on, and then he went back to the barge. If no one made the attempt to help him, it would take a while, between the digging out of the sand, and pushing it a bit more off the shore, then working to drag it in the surf and edge of the water to the old boat port just past his shack.

Pulling the barge to shore, he walked to a large tree and tie it down so it didn't float off. That would help. A lot. He walked back onto the barge, pulling it hard to get it wedged slightly into sand. Pulling out his lock pick, Rook moved to the first container. He looked to the lock pick and lifted it up some. It was still in good shape. Wonderful. Grabbing it with both hands, Rook lifted it high and smashed down with the heavy metal hammer. Lock pick indeed.

It took two hits to break off the ancient lock upon the first crate. Opening the crate, he would look inside of it. Within was scrap steel, like it was headed to a scrap yard to be broken down. Wonderful! That would do well for the wall. Moving to the next one, he would repeat the process of breaking the lock. Inside this one was something he didn't expect. Tools filled this one, like it was one that was going to go to a store from before the bombs.

The next crate was empty, that was... Oddly helpful. And the final one had more scrap steel. This was interesting. He smiled a bit as he looked over everything. Now the trick was get others down here to help. For now, he would start by working to haul the steel up the way, towards the second road entrance. This was going to be where another gate was going to need to be set up. He looked at the old truck and then pondered for a moment. Well, now was as good as any time. Setting down the steel, he would walk into the large building right there, the Sandy Cove Inn as it had been renamed.

“Hello?” Rook called as he walked in.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Rook - Boat Dock

Rook had spent nearly half the day hauling the ship in. He had helped to reset the ropes as well, making use if the additional pulleys he had brought to add more mechanical force to things. It didn't ever take long for a number of things, but this took a lot longer than Rook had expected it to. It did remind him of hauling a car out of the water to be used for making a lot of metal tools when he was near one of the Great Lakes, as it had been called.

Still, by the end of it, Rook was sweating, his body was sore and hurt, and he would need a few hours to recover. The boat had been another beast to be beaten, something else claimed from the fires of a war far older than anyone could dream of. The fact they had so little working boats was something that Rook had always wondered about. He had seen a man restore a pre-war tank and modify it to use the nuclear motors of various other cars, but he so rarely had seen boats...

Well, there was one raider gang based out of a Marna. They had sail boats, but they weren't anything special. He used rocks and grenades to skin those. When it was all said and done however, Rook sat down on the side of the dock, looking over the water.

“Can man get it to work? Boats can be useful. Boats can be helpful. Rook only hopes we have enough to keep raiders away who might want boat.”

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Rook – Rook's Wall

Something felt off about today. Rook had been out here for a while, but so far no one had wandered up this way at all. His mind combed through various possibilities, but then he just shrugged. The trader did have the right idea, the boat would bring in fish and shelled food, it would help to improve the economy of the town... But it also made them a target. Rook looked at the wall he had been working on. It was primitive, but it would work at the very least. Popping his neck, he started to lay the logs down in the front. Using the sea water, torn up cloth scraps, and old ropes, he would wrap the logs with the rope and pack the gaps in with mud. He had seen this done before, to the west, and it was made to make simple mud houses.

The barrier was not that high, but he knew it was a start at very least. If they got attacked while he was working on the boat, they at least had a little bit of cover. Walking back to his shack, he knew the man was going to be arriving before long. Rook had gotten the cables off an old pre war construction device, as well as a number of pulleys, during his travels. These would come in handy as long as he had a place to hook them to. Docks usually had spots he could set them up at. Rook gathered all this up ans headed to the spot he was shown last night, where the boat was resting at.

“Rook is here. Let's get boat pulled up so you can start working on it.”

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Rook – Rook's Shack

Rook went with the man, he was in such a rush it felt almost unreal. He didn't understand why this person was in such a rush. He couldn't hear gunfire, shouting, or screaming, there was no stealth attack it seemed. Part of him was disappointed at this knowledge, the rest of him knew that this was better for the town if there was no attack. When he was shown the boat, told everything that the man wanted to do... He just paused.

“Let Rook understand this... You want to pull over old boat to bring food to the town. Rook gets that, but why wake up Rook in middle of the night. This can wait for morning, Rook thinks so. Rook will help you tomorrow, but it will need to wait until after Rook has restarted work on Wall. While boat is helpful, boat doesn't keep out raiders. Yet...” Rook said, thinking for a moment and then nodding. “Tomorrow.”

With a grin, would walk back to his shack to rest for the night after all this excitement.

Rook – Rook's Wall

A little after dawn, Rook was up. He was stretching out everything. He was getting ready to do his morning jog. He didn't know if he was going to go off the rails by being lazy. He had spent some time with other super mutants, seeing how they were lazy, battled each other, never did anything with the powers they had gotten from the change. They never seemed to care, but he always took care of himself after he woke up in the sewer, and he never seemed to suffer the decay they did.

Doing a quick jog (by human standards) around the edge of the town on the beach. He was armed this time, bracers and shin guards, with a good looking steel pole. He had that strapped to his back to keep him defended from Mirelurks. If he made it all around with no problems, he would start work on his wall until he was gotten by the trader to help pull out the boat.

For now it was making sure all the corner posts were at least roughly made so they could be placed with out any issues later on. He needed to get a hold of a shovel and a pickaxe so he could dig down and work on making the posts a bit more secure for later. The men at the diner said they could help make the gates automatic so that way they didn't have to hand crank the doors open. He would probably take the next few days to drag up the machinery when he was able to.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Rook had been in his shack for a while. He had taken the time to cook the meat that he had bought and he then get it placed either in the stew, or in containers that had acquired from long ago. Pre-war people were all about keeping things good as long as humanly possible, so these containers only made sense for them. Plastic to keep air out and be able to rewash out, but also to keep them strong and unable to decay. That was the best part of them.

With all of that done, Rook did his usually nightly rituals. It was patterned behavior he had learned in the twenty some years of his life to do. Make sure his weapon is in good shape, spending some time tightening the leather, sharpening the blade, making sure the weight was still set properly. Then came his pistol. Personally, he sucked at using it. Sure, it had been given a minor change to make it easier for him to use, but overall... He was a terrible shot with it. Perhaps he would give it to Lorelei or Brandy. Maybe they could make better use of it.

Finishing up with the cleaning of the pistol, he then turned to his armor. He knew it could be a lot better, but perhaps for now it was enough. He would clean it, make note of any damage upon it, and then rehang it upon his rack. It was almost always more comfortable to sleep outside of his armor, and this night was no exception. He had just sat down when the noise was echoing outside... Something was wrong. He could hear his name...

As the voice got closer, Rook put on his armor. Part of him hoped he wasn't about to be run out of town, but he didn't think he was about to be... Still, safe over sorry. The person yelling sounded like the trader, the one who he spoke to before. Odd? Why would he be here? When the pounding on the door happened, Rook stepped outside, holding his halberd in one hand, and helmet in the other.

“Trader man? What wrong? Rook is here. Is town under attack? Does Rook need to kill more Mirelurks to help protect town?” Rook asked, seeing how panicked the man looked. “Does Rook need to fight more bad creatures!?”

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Rook – Outside the Diner

Rook grinned as others talked about being able to help him with the wall. He knew that was not going to be easy, but he was glad that a lot of people were willing to help out with this. It didn't take him long to get the water drank, and he knew he needed to get the meat set up so it could be preserved and made into something more delicious. He could eat it raw of course, but that idea almost always turned his stomach. Sure, he had done so in the past, but that was a long time ago, and it was eat the rat or die at that point.

Ace was closing down the diner, and Rook nodded to everyone. “Rook is heading to his shack. If Rook is needed, please go ahead and get me. Rook looks forward to seeing everyone tomorrow and building more of the gate.” He said, nodding once more. “Sleep well.”

Like a Mutant, he didn't understand all the need for the manners, grabbed up the meat he had been sold, picked up his small bag of caps, white flag, and headed out. He was going to go by his wall to reach his shack anyways. It was honestly the easiest way to do things. He hated having to climb down the cliff side, as it was unstable for one of his size. It's why the Mirelurks tended to take other paths...

As he walked down, there was indeed a mirelurk. The movement of everything, the sudden influx of people, and everything else that had been happening had gotten this one curious of what was happening. While they were not mindless, they were not smart either. Rook dropped the food he was carrying, stabbed the white flag into the ground next to him, and walked towards the Mirelurk, popping his neck as he did so.

“Mirelurks not allowed in Salem. Salem under Rooks protection now. Leave crab person!” Rook shouted at it, his eyes narrowed in anger. “Leave!”

The Mirelurk was going to exit now, but not by it's own doing. When it charged Rook, it was woefully unprepared for the fight. As the razor sharp claw came in, Rook shifted, punching the creature in the shell of it's arm, cracking the armor like body plates upon it. He stepped in now, like a pre-war boxer, and smashed another punch into the water dwelling creature. Once more it staggered back, and Rook slammed his foot down, much harder than was needed.

In the dim light, he had seen the weapon he could use. The broken pole from the gate he had ripped out. Slamming his foot down caused it to pop up, and Rook caught it. Using all his weight, he shoulder tackled the creature, knocking it backwards and causing it to make noises of anger. Despite having a damaged claw, it lashed out, managing to grab Rook's left forearm. When it squeezed down, Rook could feel the pain of it, but he was hard to cut. The pole slid back as he raised up his free arm, stabbing the broken end of the pole forwards quickly.

The broken edge stabbed through the lightly armored face of the creature and everything went slack as it exited out the back of the shell. Rook was bleeding from the wound upon his arm, but he wasn't going to bother the doctor about it. He went to the trailer bed, pulled up an old bit of cloth, and wrapped his arm. He needed to get some tools, but he was going to harvest the meat and bring it back to the diner before the night was over.

When he was done with that, he left a cooler by the door of the diner, so it would be hit when Ace went to return to the diner, and he would be able to take the meat inside, Rook no where in sight.

Using his small camp fire, he was busy slowly roasting the meat to add to his stew. It would take a few hours, but he only needed a little bit of sleep. He would wash out his wound and redress it before the night was over as well.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

“Yes, Rook is Rook. Rook made his armor and weapon, but those are back at his shack.” Rook would carefully shake the hand of Adam, though he didn't hear this one's name. There were a lot of people in the town it seemed. That was good. He just got here and it was growing! “Rook would like to make armor fit better, maybe replace some old parts that have worn out. Rook once had chest plate of the armor the Tin Men wear while not far from the Pitt. It was in a place called 'Depot.'”

Rook seemed fairly confident of the name of the area he found the armor in. “Rook traded it long ago however to get welding materials to help repair walls of a town. Rook wishes he could find armor like that again, or even make it! Rook would be able to stop all the bad things in the wastelands with armor like that. Rook is a Paladin of the Wastelands, that is what the old woman in red told Rook.”

He pondered for a moment. “Does man know how to make gates out of big metal machines from before bombs? Rook has seen other places use them, but never understood how they worked. Rook was thinking of bring up old containers from water to use as wall materials, but Rook will need a lot of help with that. Rook is only so strong."

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Eric Stonewell

Name: Eric Stonewell

Age: 26

Race: Human (Vault-Dweller)

Sex: Male

Skills: Scouting (Sneak/Stealth), Wilderness Survival (cooking, meat harvesting), Weapon Skills (Self taught for most of it), Mechanical Skills (Minor Maintaining) Overall, Eric is a self taught survivalist in this world of unknowns and death all around. He has taken what skills he has seen others use, and ones he has learned on his own. While he is not the best at these, he has enough skill to survive in this place.

Personality: Driven, focused, and hard working is what the members of Vault 81 would say about Eric. In the Wastelands however, everything gets a bit muddled. Eric has adapted to life in the Wastelands a bit too well. While he has not become a raider, there are times when he uses rather questionable tactics and can be murky when it comes to morals at times. Over all, Eric does want to help people, but he tends to hold that most wastelanders are always after something when you help you.

While he is focused and driven, he can some times get tunnel vision, forgetting about his surroundings as he dives towards his goal, and this has cost him a few times, and he has the scars to show it. He is hard working, but this is again something that can cause many problems for him as well, as he can lose sight of his own safety or limits.

Weapons & armor/clothing: Eric is a man who values what he currently has and knows it will mean the difference between living and dying. He still wears his original Vault 81 suit, but it has been clearly patched in places. Over his chest is the front part of the rather useful, and commonly seen, metal armor. His armor has been welded so it is heavier, but more resistant to firearms. His arms and legs are covered with heavy studded leather, allowing the freedom of movement with a degree of protection. The armor is worn and has seen much use in the wastelands.

His main weapons are of prewar design. A well maintained and heavily modified Combat Rifle with a rather large bayonet on the barrel, a basic heavy 10mm pistol, and a combat knife that seems to have been scavenged from a prewar military installation.

Mods for Gear

Metal Armor (Chest, Heavy, Stealth, Asbestos Lined)

Leather Armor (Arms and Legs, Sturdy, Studded mod on all, Sleek for Legs, Pocketed on Arms)

Vault 81 Suit (Shielded), Vault 81 Security Helmet (Repainted)

Combat Rifle (Glow Sights, Calibrated Powerful Receiver, Full Stock, Long Ported Barrel, Large Bayonet, Large Magazine)

10mm Pistol (Heavy model, well used)

Combat Knife (Serrated, stealth)

Previous Factions:

Faction: Vault 81

Backstory: Eric Stonewell comes from a group of people who has always wanted to open the Vault to the outside world. He was one of the advocates for it as well, and when the doors were opened for traders, he started his training regime. He did what he could in the vault, and upon the second half being opened, he was one of the ones who did physical labor to help prepare his body for the heavy lifting of the wilds.

When the colony was approved for the outside, he was the first to step forwards to help build the colony. The walls, the buildings, the towers, everything for the vault colony was something he helped to build, but he realized they would need more. Sure, the Sole Survivor helped make sure trade caravans got there, and the Minutemen were all over the place, but... There would always be break downs in things.

That is when the idea dawned on him. A second location they could colonize, or even just eventually retreat to if they ever needed it, their own form of Project Safehouse. Eric was one of many who would go out to do this. Diamond city was always an idea, but it was too crowded and had far, far too many snobbish people, so something else was needed.

Bring handed a 10mm pistol, a Vault-Security Suit, some water and rations, he made his way into the wastelands. It didn't take long for him to have to start modifying things, trading services for equipment, and generally learning how to survive out here. He found a combat rifle, battered and badly damaged, on the beach during his explorations, and with the help of the Minutemen, he got it functional and modified to his liking. He traded with them as well, eventually helping to set up a deal for himself, he would spread the word of the Minutemen, and help where he could, and in exchange, they would help him with his gear.

Add several months of time, many dead raiders, and a lot of walking, Eric was now on his way to Salem. Rumors of people trying to start up a settlement there had peaked his ears. The Minutemen had no force out here, few traders, and many issues. It sounded perfect. He knew it was going to take a few days to reach it. He was going to leave out of the Castle and travel there on his own. It was going to be fun.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Eric

Eric, Enroute to Salem

Eric was on his way out of the Castle. After the last few tasks had been done and he paid the remaining caps, his weapons were back in tip top shape. Sure, he could have gotten a lot of other things, but this was something that he had grown to trust far more than other weapon. His armor wasn't the best either, but the repaint on it all was simply stunning to say the very least about it.

He was honestly glad for the cooler night tonight. Most people would tell him that he shouldn't travel at night, and while that is partly true... Eric had an idea of what was going to happen. He had heard the odd report of raiders or bandits attacking smaller groups or singles of travelers and waylaying the hell out of them. Outgunned and outclassed, most of them surrendered, but some times they fought back. Eric was hoping to run into one or two of these on his way to scout out Salem. If it was true, maybe he could put down a few of them...

If it proved to be false, then he could clock it up to bad reports or that he was just wasn't lucky. He slipped off the road once in the remains of the town outside of the castle, walking low with his rifle in his hands. He took his time, picking his way across when he heard voices down the road. It was scattered and muffled, but he could hear them.

“...Big score man. I'm telling you, a caravan always comes down this road. The musket heads are fools most of the time too, they don't bother to patrol this close to their precious castle because it should warn us off. Ha. What fuckin' fools.” A male voice said. “Ya got any more jet?”

Sitting around a small trashcan fire were indeed four raiders. He hadn't seen anyone in these parts in a while. Must be a newer or just foolhardy gang of assholes. Three men and a woman. Damn it... He hated having to kill women. The man and the woman moved off to patrol, scouting if the caravan was heading this way or not. Slinging his rifle, Eric moved through the shadows, aiming to keep as silent as possible.

The puff of the inhaler for jet whispered through the air, and Eric started to count. It was an extreme high, but it was always so short lived. At a quick count of thirty, he raised up from his hiding spot. The man who was with him was rooting through a bag when the first one got a knife the back of his skull. Drawing the blade back out, he pushed the body forwards as it twitched from the rapidly dying cells of the brain.

Falling upon the second, the man cursed out. “What the hell man!? Can't wait for your next hit? Really?” When he spoke, it was clear he was pissed off. When he realized that his friend's blood was now all over him, Eric struck out with the combat knife. The blade found flesh in the man's throat, and the twist and pull sealed his fate.

That was two down, two more to go. A quick search found a note, twelve caps, and a few .32 rounds with their armor and pipe pistols. Yeah, no thanks. He took the note, caps, and bullets, and then pressed on. He had to hunt down the other two raiders that had left on patrol before they could come back and freak out. It didn't take long for him to find them either. The two had used this moment to get off with each other. He had her pressed against the wall, pants off for both of them, and was just going to town. She was biting down on a bit of wood to keep from screaming out. It was great for them, even better for him.

Slipping up behind them, he pulled back out his rifle, waiting for the in stroke and stabbing forwards. The bayonet sliced through flesh just under the ribs and the pain made it so he didn't call out. She probably figured it was a harder thrust until the bullet fired. The .45 round ripped though the both, dropping them both dead on the side of the road. Eric wasn't even going to warrant this one with a search. Let them rot. Overall, a rather fruitful adventure so far! And he wasn't even twenty minutes away from the Castle!

With a shrug, he would look to his pip-boy. It was still working, lucky him, and he knew he would have to radio back to them before too long. He still had a few days however. He could reach Salem in two or three, two if he tried and was willing to risk being on the road in broad daylight. Popping his neck, he would continue down the road, heading towards Salem, and perhaps to see if it was a good place to settle down at like he had been told.

Rook

Rook – Salem Diner

Rook at the offered beer. It was an odd thing, he had never been offered a beer before, much less decided to get one for any reason. He tended to avoid drinks like this because he had no idea what it would do him. He had seen dozens of fights after people drank several of these... Perhaps one wouldn't hurt...

He smiled and raised it up, taking a drink from it and shaking his head afterwards. “Rook thinks this drink is funny. Not sure if drink is for him. Rook will still try to drink it however. Don't want caps to be wasted.” Rook said, trying his best to be polite for what was offered to him. After all, he did seem to slightly hurt some feelings by buying his own food.

But he ate a lot, and didn't want to make people broke trying to help keep him fed. He could do that on his own. But she was being nice to him, trying to make him feel welcome, and in truth, it was not a feeling he was really used too. People like Frieda seemed to be the norm, where people wanted to kill him instead of give him a shot of some kind. He knew it was going to take a while to get trust from some people... But he wasn't expecting others to be so open.

Lost in his mind for a bit, he realized he had finished his bottle. He set it aside and looked to Brandy for a moment. “Rook liked that, but Rook will stick with water for now. Rook doesn't want to drink all the beer!” He laughed, smiling a bit at her.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Posting for a less socially awkward character.

Eric Stonewell

Name: Eric Stonewell

Age: 26

Race: Human (Vault-Dweller)

Sex: Male

Skills: Scouting (Sneak/Stealth), Wilderness Survival (cooking, meat harvesting), Weapon Skills (Self taught for most of it), Mechanical Skills (Minor Maintaining) Overall, Eric is a self taught survivalist in this world of unknowns and death all around. He has taken what skills he has seen others use, and ones he has learned on his own. While he is not the best at these, he has enough skill to survive in this place.

Personality: Driven, focused, and hard working is what the members of Vault 81 would say about Eric. In the Wastelands however, everything gets a bit muddled. Eric has adapted to life in the Wastelands a bit too well. While he has not become a raider, there are times when he uses rather questionable tactics and can be murky when it comes to morals at times. Over all, Eric does want to help people, but he tends to hold that most wastelanders are always after something when you help you.

While he is focused and driven, he can some times get tunnel vision, forgetting about his surroundings as he dives towards his goal, and this has cost him a few times, and he has the scars to show it. He is hard working, but this is again something that can cause many problems for him as well, as he can lose sight of his own safety or limits.

Weapons & armor/clothing: Eric is a man who values what he currently has and knows it will mean the difference between living and dying. He still wears his original Vault 81 suit, but it has been clearly patched in places. Over his chest is the front part of the rather useful, and commonly seen, metal armor. His armor has been welded so it is heavier, but more resistant to firearms. His arms and legs are covered with heavy studded leather, allowing the freedom of movement with a degree of protection. The armor is worn and has seen much use in the wastelands.

His main weapons are of prewar design. A well maintained and heavily modified Combat Rifle with a rather large bayonet on the barrel, a basic heavy 10mm pistol, and a combat knife that seems to have been scavenged from a prewar military installation.

Mods for Gear

Metal Armor (Chest, Heavy, Stealth, Asbestos Lined)

Leather Armor (Arms and Legs, Sturdy, Studded mod on all, Sleek for Legs, Pocketed on Arms)

Vault 81 Suit (Shielded), Vault 81 Security Helmet (Repainted)

Combat Rifle (Glow Sights, Calibrated Powerful Receiver, Full Stock, Long Ported Barrel, Large Bayonet, Large Magazine)

10mm Pistol (Heavy model, well used)

Combat Knife (Serrated, stealth)

Previous Factions:

Faction: Vault 81

Backstory: Eric Stonewell comes from a group of people who has always wanted to open the Vault to the outside world. He was one of the advocates for it as well, and when the doors were opened for traders, he started his training regime. He did what he could in the vault, and upon the second half being opened, he was one of the ones who did physical labor to help prepare his body for the heavy lifting of the wilds.

When the colony was approved for the outside, he was the first to step forwards to help build the colony. The walls, the buildings, the towers, everything for the vault colony was something he helped to build, but he realized they would need more. Sure, the Sole Survivor helped make sure trade caravans got there, and the Minutemen were all over the place, but... There would always be break downs in things.

That is when the idea dawned on him. A second location they could colonize, or even just eventually retreat to if they ever needed it, their own form of Project Safehouse. Eric was one of many who would go out to do this. Diamond city was always an idea, but it was too crowded and had far, far too many snobbish people, so something else was needed.

Bring handed a 10mm pistol, a Vault-Security Suit, some water and rations, he made his way into the wastelands. It didn't take long for him to have to start modifying things, trading services for equipment, and generally learning how to survive out here. He found a combat rifle, battered and badly damaged, on the beach during his explorations, and with the help of the Minutemen, he got it functional and modified to his liking. He traded with them as well, eventually helping to set up a deal for himself, he would spread the word of the Minutemen, and help where he could, and in exchange, they would help him with his gear.

Add several months of time, many dead raiders, and a lot of walking, Eric was now on his way to Salem. Rumors of people trying to start up a settlement there had peaked his ears. The Minutemen had no force out here, few traders, and many issues. It sounded perfect. He knew it was going to take a few days to reach it. He was going to leave out of the Castle and travel there on his own. It was going to be fun.