>>35152145
>[] Congratulate band

>>35152145
Twitter (for runtimes, not my political opinions): https://twitter.com/HaikuDeluge

Archive (for reading when you feel blue): http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Rock+Quest

STATS:

ROCK OFFS WON/CHALLENGED: 0/1
DEMON SCHLONGS SEEN: 32/???
AFTERLIFE EXPERIENCES: 1/???
ALIGNMENT: TRUE ROCK - "Rock is worth doing."

>>35152145
>[] Congratulate band

>>35152205
I thought you were stopping this

>>35152340
When it's done, and not before.

>>35152145
>>[] Talk to victims
Bear witness to the amazing power of rock!

>>35152145
>>[x] Congratulate band
>>[x] Talk to victims

>>35152145
>[] Congratulate band

Also, we should play the Live in River Plate version of Let There be Rock whem we challenge the Demonic Orchestra.

And play Carlos Santana's Victory is Won after we finish here.

>>35152613
>not by Megadeth

Veto'd

>>35152669
Which one, Victory is Won?

I chose that one because Santana is really religious dude, its a calm instrumental song and the name plus the overall atmosphere of the song just says "Yep. We did it guys. Shit was hard but we won and now we can just relax a bit" to me.

>>35152145
You pull your feet out of the sand, shake them off, and walk toward the DJ. She looks oddly calm, standing there with her fish in her arms, petting the big sea bass as the wind ruffles her short hair. You think the glasses are probably helping her deal with the dust storm.

"That was impressive," you say, once you're close enough you think she'll hear you over the throbbing beat of Hell, the screams of the damned, and whatever horrifying riff keeps playing over every speaker she isn't controlling. The riff even sounds like it's beign played on a guitar with spikes all over it.

Turns out, you weren't close enough, or you weren't loud enough. You career didn't prepare you for yelling over the din of Hell itself. Well, as an acocuntant, you were often the one giving out the most Hellish announcements.

"Thanks to you," you say, walking closer and raising your voice, "we were able to give them quite a beating. I couldn't have played that without you."

She looks over at you, hugging the fish to herself, shoulders hunched. "Thanks," she says, but there's a look in her eyes you don't like, " I was so angry when I saw what they were doing. It was..." as she struggles for words to describe it, you finally place the look. It's the look your son had when he finally found out Santa Claus wasn't real, except that was the collar value menu version, and this is the triple double combo with bacon.

Damn it.

"We saved them," you say, stepping closer and gesturing at the victims, "you saved them - the speakers you controlled did most of the work." There's nothing else you can think of to say. Hopefully that's what she needed to hear.

>>35153071
You hear the sound of a giant pair of scissors behind you. "Sorry to cut things short," the priest says, walking up with the nurse behind him, "but we need to get moving before they send more demons out to get us. We took these out because they were distracted," he says, jerking his head at the victims, "but next time we won't be so lucky."

>[] Head in the direction of the orchestral noises you heard earlier
>[] Head for the biggest ziggurat - if it's big, it's important
>[] Head for another cloud of rising dust - there are more orgies to be stopped, people to be saved
>[] Tell the priest to fuck off, and keep talking to the DJ, or talk to the victims
>[] Write-in

>>35153094
>[] Head for the biggest ziggurat - if it's big, it's important

>>35153094
>Orchestral noises

>>35153094
>[] Head in the direction of the orchestral noises you heard earlier
Saturday mornings are the slowest.

>>35153094
>[] Head in the direction of the orchestral noises you heard earlier

>>35153094
>>[x] Head in the direction of the orchestral noises you heard earlier
Let's take down the main man running this show, no need to save everyone one by one when we can save them all in one riff stroke.

Btw, did the nurse have any instrument? Can we scavenge him one?

>>35153283
>>35153288
>>35153297
>>35153316
This is probably the guy that the priest saw walking toward the concert with the massive instrument slung over his shoulder, at the end of 'you are a priest'.

>>35153351
yes
let's rock his face off

>>35153351
The same instrument that once hung on the guitar-makers wall yes?

>>35153497
If that's Cellist Guts, the we should try to recruit him so we can do sick Cello metal solos.

>>35153347
"I heard something like the ghost of an orchestra earlier," you say, pointing as near as you can guess to the right direction, "let's check it out."

Your little band waves to the people you rescued as you plod away. A ragged cheer goes up, which makes you wonder, until you remember that they're rock fans. You see that a few of them have picked up the bladed limbs of the lesser demons, imitating the priest.

You hope that works out for them.

Something's stirring up a huge cloud of dust in the middle distance, directly in front of you. You wonder if it has anything to do with the orchestral noises you heard earlier, as you trudge over sand dune after sand dune, your IV bag depleting every step. Sure, nothing hurts now, but once it's gone, you're stranded in this damn place with only stitches holding the holes in your chest together.

Not that you aren't already, but you'll feel it then.

Speakers and broken instruments litter the red sands, most half-buried. Occasionally, you find something more disturbing - huge skeletons of beasts you've never seen, a trampled tract of sand dyed black with drying blood, or a blonde's defaced head, spiked on a giant rib next to her mangled body.

Fuck.

It's a hard, silent journey. Just taking one step after another is all the effort any of you can muster against the raging sand and sun, not to mention the incessant Hellish background music. You're thankful that the DJ's bass is silencing the nearby speakers, at least.

Finally, you close in on the dust cloud. You can hear demonic screaming, confused shouting, clashing metal, a whirlwind of violent sounds that don't make much sense to you.

>[] Charge straight in
>[] CHARGE WHILE ROCKING
>[] Scout in slowly, carefully
>[] Write-in

Wow, I'm slow today.

>>35153976
>[] CHARGE WHILE ROCKING
CALL THE LIGHTNING

>>35153976
>>[] CHARGE WHILE ROCKING
I mean, obviously.

Rolled 39 (1d100)

>>35153976
No other choice!
>[x] CHARGE WHILE ROCKING

>>35153976
>>[x] CHARGE WHILE ROCKING
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dTaD9cd8hvw

File: AFuckingOctobasse.jpg (58 KB, 274x505)

58 KB JPG

>>35153976
(1/2)

You look back at your band. The DJ has that odd device slung in front of her, and her bass flopping along at her side - has it doubled in size since you last looked at it? The nurse is dragging most of a metal-framed electronic keyboard. Looks to you like he's going to use it as an extreme percussion instrument. The priest is twirling those scissors around, looping them through the air in hard-to-follow patterns.

"You guys ready for this?" you ask, turning around as you make the last nervous adjustments to your guitar's hand-forged tuning keys. You're still amazed at how much care Godo put into crafting this instrument.

They nod at you.

No words needed. You start running up the dune, straight for the dust cloud. The priest and the nurse easily keep pace, but the DJ stays a few steps behind. Fingers set on the frets, one hand poised for the first chord, you crest the dune, finally able to see inside the dust cloud.

This is carnage, a crude message written on reality like a curse spelled out in staples on an office whiteboard. There's something unreal about the twisted, bloodied forms lying in the sandstorm. Demons all, both large and small, thrown aside, mangled by some horrendous blunt trauma, their forms twisted from their original perversion into broken scraps.

You see other demons clambering over the piles of their own dead, toward the center of the storm, their feet stirring the sand into the dust cloud that surrounds you. All of them trying to swarm onto a single man, pushing and shoving each other to be the one who takes him down.

There's a man standing in the middle, swinging something titanic, smashing through demon after demon as they press in upon him. He's tired, you can see that, and probably wounded too, but he hasn't given up yet.

That thing he's swinging - too big to be called an instrument. Too big, too thick, too heavy and too rough. But an instrument it is. A solid, steel-banded octobasse.

>>35154716
(2/2)

A demon springs at the man from behind, you hear a gunshot, and it falls. Only then do you see the tour manager lying in the dust behind the bassist, doing all he can to hold his pistol up.

You leap from the crest of the hill, right hand slashing down over your guitar strings, the first chord flying from your guitar. You see a few demons in the shoving crowd look up, surprised.

You fall on them like a bolt of lightning, the smell of ozone filling you nostrils as the crackling electricity burns through the unlucky demons. You set your feet as you hear the beat kick in, a savage, pounding rhythm, the beat of a plodding, slow, but inevitable destruction. This is the rhythm of the barbarians at the gates, the anti-pacemaker of Rome.

And you're playing right along.

>[] Rock your way to the tour manager
>[] Become a separate nexus of destruction
>[] Rock toward the biggest, scariest demon you can see, and challenge him
>[] Write-in

Roll 1d100.

>>35154743
>>[x] Rock your way to the tour manager
He obviously needs help, the big bad demon can wait until he's safe (relatively).

Rolled 26 (1d100)

>>35154743
>[x] Rock your way to the tour manager
Sitrep

File: Conan (Alex Toth).jpg (922 KB, 1206x1618)

922 KB JPG

Rolled 97 (1d100)

>[x] Write-in: empower the swinging men with our rocking!

Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>35154743
>[] Rock your way to the tour manager
POWERSLIDE

File: guts_h10.jpg (188 KB, 640x698)

188 KB JPG

>MY LOVE FOR YOU IS LIKE A TRUCK
>BERSERKER
>WOULD YOU LIKE TO MAKE SOME FUCK
>BERSERKER

The Black Bassist, one brutal singer

>>35155068
He has but one arm, the other is a prosthetic with an inbuilt amplifier.

File: Spoiler Image (130 KB, 1366x768)

130 KB JPG

>>35153976
>blonde
>decapitated
>broken body

>>35154743
>the tour manager is here
>he was torturing the sniper earlier

>sniper almost got stage passes from us
>that girl was making tea
>blonde
>we kept staring at her tits


GOD FUCKING DAMMIT HAIKU!

>>35154743
(1/2)

Here you go again. At least you're not on your own.

You don't know who the man with the octobasse is, but you should link up with your tour manager, who didn't seem to be in good shape. Frankly, you're surprised someone in his condition held out so long here.

One step toward them, then another, lightning sparking from your guitar, frying through countless lesser demons, hunched things with spindly, bladed limbs. You hammer out a riff against the rhythm the DJ feeds you, the speakers buried in the sand under the battlefield making the very ground shake with the sound.

While technically impressive, it's not the sound you need for this crowd. Complicated fingering is all very well on a stage, or in a recording studio, but when the demons are clustering around you, and you're staring into their slavering, toothy maws, it's time for simple, powerful, loud chords.

It's time for those reliable four chords.

Every time you strum the guitar, tongues of lightning strike out like hissing serpents, fastening onto the faces, blades, and hands of the surrounding demons. Striding across the battlefield, a walking thunderstorms, your pelvis shoving the guitar forward rhythmically, this isn't what you signed up for, but, even though you know how horrible the situation is, you can't help but feel some deep fulfillment from being this tall, this in control.

You hear scissors to your left, then a demonic head flies past you, smashing into the startled face of another demon, moments before you fry it.

As you get closer to the bassist, the demons get bigger, more resistant. They'd shoved the weaker ones aside to have the first go at the worthy prey, but now they've been caught between the hammer and the anvil, and they're fighting like trapped rats.

Rats trapped in a grinder.

>>35156455
(2/2)

Your song is the song of collapse, of overwhelming change, of chaos displacing an order, of the unstoppable tide of unwashed bodies trampling civilization underfoot. The chord structure is simple, but the beat of marching feet is complex - do barbarians march in an orderly fashion? You are the overwhelming force, you are here to break the old order, the order of Hell against man, the system of selling souls and the periodic invasions of the mortal realm.

Step by dogged step, you close in on the bassist, the priest and nurse covering your flanks, pressing the demons between the two forces of destruction like ice into a blender's blades. Ah, blenders. You're sure you and your college drinking buddies would have made good use of all this demon blood once, but those days are long gone. Now the spicy liquid is an annoyance, splattering on you, making your frets slicker and harder to handle.

You don't know how long it takes. You've lost count of time, of life, of everything except the beat and your guitar. Well, maybe you heard the bassist singing something about trucks.

Finally, it's almost over. The horde is done for, the only demon left standing is a house-high monstrosity covered in shaggy fur, horns curling above its glowing red eyes, holding what might have once been a minivan, beaten and welded into a hideous mockery of a guitar and strung with power lines. His eyes shift back and forth between you and the bassist.

"I can give you the love of all women," you hear the beast say, "if you spare me."

The bassist spits on the sand, then looks at you, as if to ask "you want to take him down?"

>[] Gang up on the big demon
>[] "He's all yours"
>[] Challenge the demon to a rock off
>[] Negotiate with the demon
>[] Write-in

>>35156634
>>[] Challenge the demon to a rock off

>>35156634
>>[x] Gang up on the big demon

>>35156634
how much of the IV bag is left now?
if we have enough juice, we should do the rockoff, if we don't leave him to the bassist and ask the nurse for a refill (of cocaine?) and see what has to be done after that

>>35156734
Not very much left, after the walk and the big fight.

Taking more time with the big guy will take it down even further.

>>35156787
let's do it, then
>>[] Challenge the demon to a rock off

>>35156634
"All women? There's only one I needed, and she isn't yours to give."
>>[x] Challenge the demon to a rock off

>>35156634
Attractive as his offer is, you're going to have to turn him down. Besides, isn't 'the love of all women' what a guitar gets you anyway?

"I challenge you," you say to the demon, "to a rock off."

"I accept your challenge!" the demon roars, as it turns toward you and strikes a pose, hands poised over its guitar, "and I'll take the first shot!"

He launches into a frenetic, blustering assault on the strings. To be fair, it sounds a lot better than a giant guitar made from a smashed minivan and power lines has any right to, but this demon isn't very talented. In fact, it seems like he's just muddling around on the strings with no real purpose.

He's terrible.

And suddenly, he's dead. His body falls to the ground, head smashed in by the steel-banded octobasse, leg severed by a pair of demon-bladed scissors.

"Buying time," you hear the bassist mutter to himself, looking at you darkly as he hoists the octobasse onto his shoulder.

"Makes sense," the priest says, cleaning his scissors, "and if he's trying to buy time for them, that means they haven't completed it yet. We need to get to the big ziggurat," he finishes, as he points at the fast-growing edifice.

"I'll just slow you down," the tour manager says, laying in the sand, "go on without me." He shuts his eyes, as if preparing for a nap.

You've got about an eighth of the IV bag left, and it's still flowing into your arm. The cocaine is untouched in the long coat.

The priest and the nurse are both covered in demon blood, each carrying their weapon of choice. The bassist is injured, but he's still got a lot of fight left in him. You turn around to look for the DJ -

>>35157802
Holy shit, that's a huge fish!

The bass, if you can even call it that anymore, is the size of a killer whale, and equipped with nasty saw-shaped teeth, all stained red with demon blood. You're glad the DJ's been feeding her fish well, but you hope 'you are what you eat' doesn't apply here. The girl herself looks fine. Well, as fine as you've seen her look since you fell into this Hellish place.

>[] Who should go with you on the final assault on the ziggurat? (list them)
>[] Who should you talk to on the journey there? (pick one from your list)

>>35157830
>>[] Who should go with you on the final assault on the ziggurat? (list them)
All of them? Bar the nurse.
>>[] Who should you talk to on the journey there? (pick one from your list)
Ask the DJ about her fcukhueg ass fish, ask the nurse for more painkillers.

>>35157830
Take all of them if they can walk. And ask the DJ about the bass.

>>35157830
everyone gets on the fish and ride

>>35157830
>>35157979
oh, and talk to the DJ to make sure she's ok

don't leave the manager behind either

>>35157830
To clarify, this is mostly a "do you take the tour manager with you, or leave the lame guy in the sand?" question. (And a "who do you leave with the lame guy to guard him against prowling demons?" question.)

He will slow the party down significantly.

Significantly.

Other characters have their own benefits/drawbacks, but he's the main issue.

>>35157902

Unfortunately, he doesn't have any. You sort of dragged him along with you when you left the hospital.

>>35157830

This: >>35157979

>>35158019
>Unfortunately, he doesn't have any. You sort of dragged him along with you when you left the hospital.
well, we do have cocaine, maybe we can at least ask him if making a cocktail is a good idea or not (and possibly have him adjust a thing or two)

>>35157830
You have a stroke of genius, and walk over to the DJ as she approaches. You're going to ask if everyone can ride on the fish.

As you take a closer look, something gives you pause. Maybe it's the six speakers orbiting around her in midair. Maybe it's the asymmetric half-headphones she's wearing. Maybe it's the red light of the sun being reflected in her glasses. Maybe it's her smile.

Maybe looking fine in this place is a bad sign.

"So, what happened with your fish?" you ask.

"I finally got a square meal," she tells you, smiling. You know she only has four canines. It's a trick of the light, combined with looking at far too many demons in the past hours, and being on the good painkillers, that makes every tooth in her mouth look sharp, "I put on a little weight, but it's in all the right places," she says, slapping the side of the fish.

Well, she seems happier than she's been since getting here. Of course, being happy in a place like this is probably a bad thing.

"I was wondering if you'd let us ride your fish to the ziggurat," you say, "so we can get there before the demons finish whatever they're doing."

"Oh," she says, raising her eyebrows, "you all want to ride me? I'm not sure I can take so many at a time," she says, and gives you a look that you don't want to try interpreting, "but I'll try"

>[] On second thought, this is a terrible idea
>[] Are you sure you're ok?
>[] Glad to see you so confident
>[] Board fish, approach ziggurat
>[] Write-in

>>35158798
Maybe eating demons isn't such a good idea for your moral compass.

>>35158798
>[] Board fish, approach ziggurat
ok so apparently the fish is getting demonic and taking over, so the sooner we take care of this, the better it'll get

>>35158798
>[] Are you sure you're ok?
Also ask the priest

>>35158798
>Board fish

We don't have time to waste, and it obvious that the longer we spend here, the more fucked everything gets.

>>35158992
IIRC, she said "you bit MY head off" after we ate the fish's head in the club.

Referring to the fish in the first person isn't new.

Pitching double entendres at us is new. But I like it.

>>35158798
>FUCK
>TALK TO THE PRIEST.
>HOW DO I EXORCISM
>ALSO NO KILLING WE CAN'T LOSE THE DJ SHE'S COOL, MAN.

>>35158992
>>35159064

vs.

>>35159023
>>35159067

Seeing a tie here.

Need moar votes.

>>35159404
>>35159067
I'll support this

>>35159067
We need to make sure doesn't into deamone

>>35159404
Talk with priest while riding fish seems like a good idea

>>35158798
(1/2)

"Great," you say, deliberately ignoring the double entendre, "I'm glad you're feeling better now."

"Better than I have since you bit my head off," she says, smiling at you, "but I'll forgive you for that - without it I never would have figured out what I eat," she finishes, as she climbs up on the fish herself.

You turn away with mixed feelings, and make a mental note to ask the priest about this later.

"Alright," you yell, "everybody onboard, even the manager! We're taking the fish!"

You help the bassist hoist the tour manager up on top of the fish, into the waiting arms of the nurse, then finally board yourself, in back of the priest. You grip the muscular back between your legs, rough scales gripping the fabric of your pants.

"Everyone ready?" you hear the DJ call from the front. She's answered by everything from a low grunt to an enthusiastic "Hell yeah!"

Then the fish starts swimming through the sand, kicking up a cloud of dust as it grinds its way toward the huge ziggurat.

The priest's sitting right in front of you - probably the best time you're going to get to ask him.

"I'm worried about the DJ," you say to the man's back.

"You've been worried about her since you bit her fish's head off," the priest says, "anything new?"

"The fish ate a bunch of demons during the last battle," you tell him, "that's why it's so large now. And she's acting, well, differently," you finish, and he turns to look at you.

"More confident, perhaps conversationally aggressive?" he asks, and you nod at him, as the sandy scenery slides past, "and you're wondering if eating demons has corrupted her?"

>>35160725
(2/2)

You nod again, and he says "feel my heartbeat." You comply with the odd request, adjusting the IV tube to you can place your hand on his chest.

You don't feel anything, and shift your hand, in case he's merely got a reversed heart. Nothing over there either. What the fuck.

"It's not what goes into a man that defiles him," he says, "but what comes out. The fish is part of her mind, just like your paranoia is part of yours, and she'll act differently the larger it grows. Nothing to worry about," he tells you, a smile spreading across his blood-spattered face, "now, could you stop hugging me? I'm not into men."

You disentangle yourself from him, carefully, so you don't jar the IV. It's pretty low now, and you wonder how much time you've got left.

>[] The fuck is with your heart?
>[] You're sure this is fine?
>[] Any idea what the demons are doing here?
>[] What is this place?
>[] Write-in

>>35160752
>[] You're sure this is fine?

>>35160752
>[] The fuck is with your heart?
either he died and hasn't stopped moving only because we're in demonland, or he's an undead

>>35160752
>[X] You're sure this is fine?
>[X] Any idea what the demons are doing here?

>>35160752
Should have said this was 'pick two'.

Because it is, and I'll be taking the two top-voted options.

>>35160892
The tour manager did call him a zombie at one point if i remember correctly, so it would be worth bringing up while asking the question

>>35160932

>>35160802 + >[] The fuck is with your heart?

>>35160892
He's Rock N' Roll Kirei, Anon.
His Heart is made of a mass of curses and All the Evils of Humanity and

>>35160752
>>[x] The fuck is with your heart?
>>[x] Any idea what the demons are doing here?

>>35160752
(1/2)

"The fuck is with your heart?" you ask the man sitting in front of you, who should by all rights, be dead.

"Ten years ago in Sweden," he begins, "at the mass sacrifice ritual that was supposed to give the pure essence of Metal to the winners of that battle of the bands, I was shot through the heart, and fell into the thick, liquid essence of Metal itself. Some of it seeped into me and replaced my ruined heart. The only beat it gives me," he finishes, looking off into the distance, "is in my drumming."

Huh. His forthrightness surprises you, so you decide to push your luck. "What happened to the manager?"

"Oh," he says, a smile creeping across his face, "the ritual was badly done and corrupted. He got splashed with the poisonous essence of nu-metal. I wonder if it's crawling underneath his skin as we speak?" The priest is positively grinning at you, and you suspect his earlier answer was just a bait to spring this joke on you.

The scenery changes bit by bit. There are more speakers and broken instruments half-buried in the sand every mile. The fish is starting to make a crunching sound as it plows along throguh them

"Are you sure she's fine?" you ask the priest.

"I have the leaving of a failed ritual for a heart," he says, staring into your eyes, "you've got the devil-given powers of the great rockers bouncing around in you, and that bastard," he jerks his head at the manager, "has been eaten by corruption for ten years. Eating a few demons is small potatoes."

File: Spoiler Image (1.33 MB, 1280x1024)

1.33 MB PNG

>>35161579
(2/2)

Well, you're not sure anyone he's named is what you'd call 'fine', but it's the best answer you're going to get for now. And she certainly seems to be having more fun since the fish got big.

Then you hear something over the all-enveloping Hellish beat. It's familiar, and getting louder, but you can't place it until a pack of motorcycles zooms into view over a sand dune. They're covered in skulls and spikes, and ridden by horned demons in strange armor.

One bike races ahead of the pack, its rider standing with one foot on the seat and the other on the handlebars, both hands raising the horns to the skies.

And his head's on fire.

>[] Running battle against demon bikers
>[] Challenge their leader to a rock off
>[] Stop and fight demon bikers - maybe the fish can munch some of them
>[] Write-in

>>35161610
>>[] Challenge their leader to a rock off

>>35161610
>[x] Challenge their leader to a rock off

>>35161610
>[] Challenge their leader to a rock off
no slowing down

>>35161610
>Forget fighting them, Just Knock them down and steal their Bikes.

>>35161610
>[] Challenge their leader to a rock off

We will rock our way to victory

Alright, we'll pick up with the rock-off tomorrow.

I've got to go to bed early tonight. (Driving a friend to the airport early tomorrow morning.)

See you guys then. Sorry about the slow posting speed today.

It's been fun running for you guys, and I hope you enjoyed it too.

I'll be hanging around for a little to answer any questions, and take any comments or death threats.

Twitter (for runtimes, not my political opinions): https://twitter.com/HaikuDeluge

Archive (for reading when you feel nostalgic for the good old days when the accountant played in the middle of highways): http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Rock+Quest

STATS:

ROCK OFFS WON/CHALLENGED: 1/2
DEMON SCHLONGS SEEN: 32/???
AFTERLIFE EXPERIENCES: 1/???
ALIGNMENT: TRUE ROCK - "Rock is worth doing."

No real question, just thanks for running!
Always a treat to catch this thread when its in action

>>35162029
thanks for running

hmm, just wondering... can the DJ's bass evolve into a (not!)gyarados?

>>35162149
It should totally evolve into Not!Gyarados.

That or Metal Seadramon

>>35162149
>>35162306
If it eats enough SCREAMING DEMONS.

>>35162591
Gonna archive?

>>35162744
Done. Thanks for the reminder.

Bed now.