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[GarrettGranth]

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"How long had it been, and where was I when the time had passed? What had I done?"

Garrett often found himself asking these questions after hard nights of drinking. The night before had been no exception. Things had seemed quite different, though. Things had not been... right.

Now his house was gone, his runebooks sent him to all different parts of the world, and his bank box seemed desolate.

"Excuse me, sir." He asked, entering a tavern. That, at least, was where he had left it. "What is the year."

The man told him.

Garrett's eyes went wide.

Eight years! Eight years down the drain in some netherworlds, distant remembered dreams of bardic music and strange mountaintop battles!

His only question was if he should stop drinking or drink more.

He ordered his first ale, with a bottle of vodka just in case.

Once again, he checked his bags, which were inordinately organized. Usually they were a catastrophic mess. This time there was a neat bag of reagents, and...

His book! His license to satirize!

Oh, the myriad tales of the Guardians of Lore were gone for good, he feared, lost when his house was torn down or banished or fell to pieces. Perhaps others had carried them off, scribes had copied the old works, perhaps all that history and lore was not quite lost!

He would have to track these books down. He prepared his halberd and his bow and straightened his hat.

This would not be easy.

The first thing to do - TRACK DOWN A LIBRARY!

OOC: I'm back in Ultima Online! I used to play Garrett Granth, guildmaster of the Guardians of Lore, a small roleplaying guild that specialized in chronicling events that took place in the roleplay world, while also scribing and selling the books that others wrote. We wrote a great number of books ourselves, under the Britania Publishing Company label.

It's been eight years and I'm glad this forum exists! If anyone can help me get back on my feet - all I need is a library that I can scribe from, really - then I'd certainly appreciate it.
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"Actually, I have a license to satirize, guards! Leave me be!"

[GarrettGranth]

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Garrett pushed another mug of ale under his mustache and sighed. He'd had no luck finding a library, or museum dedicated to the written works. There was only one thing left to do - restart the Britannian Publishing Company and fill his own library.

He grabbed a tome and a pot of ink. His first work in years; "Against the Orcs," was already well-received. A mysterious donor had given him funds to continue to purposes of the BPC, and now with headquarters, bookboat, and bags of pages, he was ready.

Notices had been sent out. He awaited the manuscripts.

OOC: IF you want something to get put into a book on Atlantic and pushed around as the work of the BPC, with author credit given, just work it into an IC post here and I'll cut-and-paste it into an in-game book and distribute it with the rest of them!
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"Actually, I have a license to satirize, guards! Leave me be!"

[Pia Longlimbs]

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Eve stopped at the bank in luna in preparation for a few short hours of shopping. She chatted with the teller about the recent Ophidian uprising, the banker pointed to a book on the counter, suggesting she might enjoy reading it.

She could not surpress a shout of joy that echoed through the halls and up the stairs. "Where is the author, Garrett, are you about?"

Ahh, such memories of her days with the BPC, standing at the bank in Moonglow, attempting to sell a few books, hoping to hear the clink of the small coins as she dropped them into the coffers of the struggling young company.

And since those days she had often browsed libraries throughout the land, hoping to find copies of the books they had published. Her First Editions of the books, and some of the original manuscripts had been lost, and she suspected destroyed during the battles in Cove and the subsequent loss of her home there.

Grand days those were. The struggle for life so desperate; defending home and hearth requiring almost constant battle, but the evenings spent telling wild tales around the campfire waiting for the Orcs to invade again and again had filled countless hours of the intervening years with the most awesome memories.

Eve vowed to visit all taverns on a regular basis, knowing sooner or later she would find the author. She set out that very evening.
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I hope you dance........

[GarrettGranth]

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OOC: EVE! Hah, it does me good to see you here. If you ever had a recall rune to the tower Annunzio got for me, I've set up shop there again in a new place (thanks, mystery donors!)

Good times, were they not!

IC:
No manuscripts had come, yet, but the sales of "Against the Orcs" were easily buttressing the Britannian Publishing Company operating costs. The print shop had opened, and in a week, Garrett planned to open a library. The workmen were there now, all busy and reeking of sweat and ale.

"Oh hey there son." The barmaid said as Garrett sat down.

"Son?" Garrett asked. "I'm old enough to be your father."

"Do ye want me tae call ye daddy?" She asked with a wicked laugh.

"No, I want you to serve me a beer." Garrett sighed. "And tell me, has anyone replied to those notices I put out at the banks and print shops?"

"Aye, we've got but one." The wench said.

"Oh do tell. I hope they left a rune!" Garrett exclaimed.

"Nae, just a missive. Says it's from an 'Eve'."

Garrett nearly fell off the stool.

And he hadn't even started drinking.
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"Actually, I have a license to satirize, guards! Leave me be!"