[network] @ADMIN; Arrival [open]

[snowblindmods]

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E҉̘̩̙͢͝͡R̛̫̘̝̮̞̬͓̝̫̻̻̜̦̀ͅŖ̮̳͕̲͚͜O̷̙̖͓͙̗̰͘͟R̯̝͓̪̻̩̟̟͕̥͍̭̪͍͘:̵̛̛̝͖͓̺̥̙̝̀͜ ̧̛͙͚̱̫͇̹̙̥͎̜̖̺̻̕͠͝I͇͓̫̺͖̻͈̝͇̰͕̩̯͝͡N̶̛̪̯̤̭̻͎͚̻̟͙V̧̼͙̹͔͝A̷̸̵̧̰̱̺̗̤̤̹̙̺͕͎͇̦̫͕̣̰̪͟L͏̡͍̣̫̘̖̰̟̤̟̕I̛̜̻̖̦̥͓̟̫͡ͅD҉͏̶̴̷͔̬̗̘͖͓͚͔̗̱̝̹̻͔ ̷̢̗͉͚͓̱̫͙̱̪̥̤͢R̵̢̭͕͖̙̤̣̬̪̜͎͇̙̥̘͕̙͟͜ͅE̴̷̶͇̖̙̪̜̜̫̪̬̣̣̫̺͜F̢͏̸̳̬̟͖͉͎͉̤͉͉͎̣̲̙͉͢E͏̨̧̫̩̭̯͓̬̼̳̳̱͉̤͞R̶͉͈̪͔͈͘Ȩ̧̩͙̦̝͉͇͚̼̫̭̕͘͡N̷̡̖͇͕̻̰̯͈͕͉̯C̳̝͍̤̫̥̰͝Ȩ̴̨͡͏̥̥̯̰̭̻̳̫E҉̘̩̙͢͝͡R̛̫̘̝̮̞̬͓̝̫̻̻̜̦̀ͅŖ̮̳͕̲͚͜O̷̙̖͓͙̗̰͘͟R̯̝͓̪̻̩̟̟͕̥͍̭̪͍͘:̵̛̛̝͖͓̺̥̙̝̀͜ ̧̛͙͚̱̫͇̹̙̥͎̜̖̺̻̕͠͝I͇͓̫̺͖̻͈̝͇̰͕̩̯͝͡N̶̛̪̯̤̭̻͎͚̻̟͙V̧̼͙̹͔͝A̷̸̵̧̰̱̺̗̤̤̹̙̺͕͎͇̦̫͕̣̰̪͟L͏̡͍̣̫̘̖̰̟̤̟̕I̛̜̻̖̦̥͓̟̫͡ͅD҉͏̶̴̷͔̬̗̘͖͓͚͔̗̱̝̹̻͔ ̷̢̗͉͚͓̱̫͙̱̪̥̤͢R̵̢̭͕͖̙̤̣̬̪̜͎͇̙̥̘͕̙͟͜ͅE̴̷̶͇̖̙̪̜̜̫̪̬̣̣̫̺͜F̢͏̸̳̬̟͖͉͎͉̤͉͉͎̣̲̙͉͢E͏̨̧̫̩̭̯͓̬̼̳̳̱͉̤͞R̶͉͈̪͔͈͘Ȩ̧̩͙̦̝͉͇͚̼̫̭̕͘͡N̷̡̖͇͕̻̰̯͈͕͉̯C̳̝͍̤̫̥̰͝Ȩ̴̨͡͏̥̥̯̰̭̻̳̫E҉̘̩̙͢͝͡R̛̫̘̝̮̞̬͓̝̫̻̻̜̦̀ͅŖ̮̳͕̲͚͜O̷̙̖͓͙̗̰͘͟R̯̝͓̪̻̩̟̟͕̥͍̭̪͍͘:̵̛̛̝͖͓̺̥̙̝̀͜ ̧̛͙͚̱̫͇̹̙̥͎̜̖̺̻̕͠͝I͇͓̫̺͖̻͈̝͇̰͕̩̯͝͡N̶̛̪̯̤̭̻͎͚̻̟͙V̧̼͙̹͔͝A̷̸̵̧̰̱̺̗̤̤̹̙̺͕͎͇̦̫͕̣̰̪͟L͏̡͍̣̫̘̖̰̟̤̟̕I̛̜̻̖̦̥͓̟̫͡ͅD҉͏̶̴̷͔̬̗̘͖͓͚͔̗̱̝̹̻͔ ̷̢̗͉͚͓̱̫͙̱̪̥̤͢R̵̢̭͕͖̙̤̣̬̪̜͎͇̙̥̘͕̙͟͜ͅE̴̷̶͇̖̙̪̜̜̫̪̬̣̣̫̺͜F̢͏̸̳̬̟͖͉͎͉̤͉͉͎̣̲̙͉͢E͏̨̧̫̩̭̯͓̬̼̳̳̱͉̤͞R̶͉͈̪͔͈͘Ȩ̧̩͙̦̝͉͇͚̼̫̭̕͘͡N̷̡̖͇͕̻̰̯͈͕͉̯C̳̝͍̤̫̥̰͝Ȩ̴̨͡͏̥̥̯̰̭̻̳̫
E҉̘̩̙͢͝͡R̛̫̘̝̮̞̬͓̝̫̻̻̜̦̀ͅŖ̮̳͕̲͚͜O̷̙̖͓͙̗̰͘͟R̯̝͓̪̻̩̟̟͕̥͍̭̪͍͘:̵̛̛̝͖͓̺̥̙̝̀͜ ̧̛͙͚̱̫͇̹̙̥͎̜̖̺̻̕͠͝I͇͓̫̺͖̻͈̝͇̰͕̩̯͝͡N̶̛̪̯̤̭̻͎͚̻̟͙V̧̼͙̹͔͝A̷̸̵̧̰̱̺̗̤̤̹̙̺͕͎͇̦̫͕̣̰̪͟L͏̡͍̣̫̘̖̰̟̤̟̕I̛̜̻̖̦̥͓̟̫͡ͅD҉͏̶̴̷͔̬̗̘͖͓͚͔̗̱̝̹̻͔ ̷̢̗͉͚͓̱̫͙̱̪̥̤͢R̵̢̭͕͖̙̤̣̬̪̜͎͇̙̥̘͕̙͟͜ͅE̴̷̶͇̖̙̪̜̜̫̪̬̣̣̫̺͜F̢͏̸̳̬̟͖͉͎͉̤͉͉͎̣̲̙͉͢E͏̨̧̫̩̭̯͓̬̼̳̳̱͉̤͞R̶͉͈̪͔͈͘Ȩ̧̩͙̦̝͉͇͚̼̫̭̕͘͡N̷̡̖͇͕̻̰̯͈͕͉̯C̳̝͍̤̫̥̰͝Ȩ̴̨͡͏̥̥̯̰̭̻̳̫ E҉̘̩̙͢͝͡R̛̫̘̝̮̞̬͓̝̫̻̻̜̦̀ͅŖ̮̳͕̲͚͜O̷̙̖͓͙̗̰͘͟R̯̝͓̪̻̩̟̟͕̥͍̭̪͍͘:̵̛̛̝͖͓̺̥̙̝̀͜ ̧̛͙͚̱̫͇̹̙̥͎̜̖̺̻̕͠͝I͇͓̫̺͖̻͈̝͇̰͕̩̯͝͡N̶̛̪̯̤̭̻͎͚̻̟͙V̧̼͙̹͔͝A̷̸̵̧̰̱̺̗̤̤̹̙̺͕͎͇̦̫͕̣̰̪͟L͏̡͍̣̫̘̖̰̟̤̟̕I̛̜̻̖̦̥͓̟̫͡ͅD҉͏̶̴̷͔̬̗̘͖͓͚͔̗̱̝̹̻͔ ̷̢̗͉͚͓̱̫͙̱̪̥̤͢R̵̢̭͕͖̙̤̣̬̪̜͎͇̙̥̘͕̙͟͜ͅE̴̷̶͇̖̙̪̜̜̫̪̬̣̣̫̺͜F̢͏̸̳̬̟͖͉͎͉̤͉͉͎̣̲̙͉͢E͏̨̧̫̩̭̯͓̬̼̳̳̱͉̤͞R̶͉͈̪͔͈͘Ȩ̧̩͙̦̝͉͇͚̼̫̭̕͘͡N̷̡̖͇͕̻̰̯͈͕͉̯C̳̝͍̤̫̥̰͝Ȩ̴̨͡͏̥̥̯̰̭̻̳̫
E҉̨̢͎͎̗̦͈͎̘R̨̘̦̙̖̳͈͟R̢̞̺͖̩̟̻͙͕̩͜O̢̢̼͉͔̟̯̝͇̙͜͠R̴̛̗̝͕̣̘͙̪͖̀͟:̢̢͉̙̥̝͖͉̯̟͇̖̱̖͓̲̳ ͏̴͉͈͈̦̝̦͉͖̖͉̪̝̠̭I͡҉̣̼̜̩̻̜͓̻̳̼̥̭̯̭̫͉̭ͅL̶͖͖̯̝̥̬̖̤̥̹͎̟̬̻̦̜̝̻̗͟͞Ļ̸̸̸̥̺̝̜̭̘̞͈͎͚͉E̶͍͍͈̬̕͜͟G̳̬͉̙̥̩̼̭̦͔͘͜͡À̴͟҉̤͔͇̩̳͝ͅL̟͉̯̥̝̀͢͝ ͏҉͈͎͇̞̪̬͓͎̖̥̜̦̖̜O̺̹̺̜͉̠͉̠͇̭̣͔͡͞P̢͘͜҉̺̝̥͎̜Ḙ̢͔͇̰͇̯̺͇͓̜Ŗ̦̝̫̯̻̰͍͙̼̮͎̕ͅA̸̬̯͉͓̥̕͢͞ͅT̷̡͎̻̳̥Ḭ̵̡̥̭̥̀͞O̴͈̤͚͇̜͘͘͞N̢̬͕̙̫̦̳̫̭͖͙̤.̧͢͜҉̩̼̬̞̟̻͇̭͖ ̳̝̺̯̣̠̣̲͎̝̞̣̭̫͘͠S̡̧̼͈̱̳̰̰̳̻̺̫̝͈͖͎ͅH̦̖̣̦̱͓͙͓̣́͜͠͠Ù̸͎̹̼̱͈͇̼̼̕ͅͅṰ̤̝̦̞͍̮̦̞̼̪͕̹̬͈͝T͞͏̟͖͔̯̼̫̞̥̣̘͉̫̟ͅI̢͖̪̮̺̰̟͎͈͇̻͈͔͉̱̯͓̻͞N̢̨̮̱͕̣͟Ģ̸̝̟͚̩͙͖ͅ ҉̴̝̭̩̯̫̤̼̬͇͡ͅD̨͏̺͎̝̟͔͉͕̲̮͎̦͓̥͕̹͓̮̖̘̀͠Ǫ̵͍͇̝̱̖̳̦͖͡W̸̧̩͕̹̹̬̰̻̣̣͓̞̼̮̦̺͟͞͡N̡̛̫͙̠͚̠̲̙̟̤͔̦͙ͅ.҉̢̻̝̦͓̀̕͠

Comments

garrett hawke ; day(s) 001 + 002 ; open

[acerbic]

day 001: text ★ id: dragonhawke

[ So. This definitely wasn't Weisshaupt. And, for what it's worth, Hawke is nearly one hundred and ten percent certain this isn't the Anderfels—much too cold. Or any part he knows of Thedas. For an instant he feels a pinch in his chest, wondering if maybe he'd actually never left the Fade at all. Maybe he'd been the one to stay behind instead of Stroud and that Nightmare killed him and here he is... stuck in some other nightmare for the rest of his afterlife.

He heaves a heavy sigh, casting a glance around at the new mess he's gotten himself into. Well. At least there aren't any spiders.

A thorough investigation of the house warrants someone's vested interest in puzzles. Sort of creepy, though Hawken can't pinpoint why. He contemplates scooping one up to do later. Hey, if he doesn't know how long he's going to be trapped here, he might as well keep some entertainment.

Eventually he comes back to the light box with words on it. He's never seen anything like it before and wonders what sort of magic makes it work. Glancing around like someone might be watching and tell him not to, he picks it up half expecting to hear someone tell him not to. He waits with held breath, but... nothing happens. Besides asking to register a name so he can use it.

This takes him longer than necessary. He could use his name, logic tells him to. But, logic also tells him not to give it all away so quick, maybe have a little fun with it. So, he does. And he's satisfied, if not still confused over the whole thing. ]

A bit fun, isn't it? This thing. Never seen one before in my life. If people can really communicate over them, I imagine it renders messenger birds inert. Though, those are more exciting. Never quite know when one is going to bite you or shit on your boots.

Hopefully this one doesn't.

day 002: video ★ id: dragonhawke

[ Yesterday he had been willing to entertain the idea of being here and figuring out the puzzle (eh??? he thought it was tongue-in-cheek—wind up in a house full of unfinished puzzles, finish one and get the clue to get the hell out of here. Didn't quite work that way, though.) to be on his merry way. But, whomever has gotten him here seems too intent to keep him.

He doesn't like that.

An uncomfortable feeling begins to wrap around his bones and he doesn't like it. At all. A wave of nausea hits him every so often, but he refuses to acknowledge it at all and tells himself it's nothing more than a trick of his own mind. Most of the day is spent nearby the house he arrived in—just in case. Tomorrow he decides to unleash a plan and hit the ground running. Staying in one place makes him easier to find, true, but maybe there's something lurking out there that he doesn't want to be found by.

Night falls and he's once more locked into the puzzle house. He isn't well, but he fights it. It only lends further to the idea that maybe he still is within the Fade. The tablet is drawn closer and he turns it on, foregoing keeping to text as he's not the energy to mash buttons; video it is. ]

Well, whomever arranged this excursion certainly likes the sense of [ his voice is purposely set to match: ] doom and gloom and despair. [ his voice returns to normal as he tilts his head slightly in thought. ] Orlesian, I bet.

[ Hawke falls silent for a few beats, looking at something off screen and it's followed by a frown before he looks back. He'd never come right out and say he'd like company or that he'd like to hear a voice besides his own, so. Roundabout it is. ]

This would be more interesting with a pint of ale and a deck of cards, but, who's got a story to tell? Preferably one without snow.

Video - Id: M Jones

[notrosesshadow]

[The second night was harder than the first. She should have spent the day searching, but she hadn't for some bad reason or another. Mostly she was listening to people, trying to figure out what was going on. Why they were taken. But something about this message caught her attention. Perhaps it was the loneliness in his voice that pulled a reminder of That Year that Never Existed. And she had spent all that time telling stories...

It took a moment before she hit respond.]

I might have one or two percolating around. What sort of story are you in the mood for.

[acerbic]

[ To say he's happy to have had someone take his poor attempt at bait, would be an understatement. It's not often Hawke feels like this—at least, not openly enough to admit to feeling... off. So, to have company, even if it's in the form of whatever this is and not directly in person, is something he needs.

He offers a smile in return, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. ]

Good ones. [ . . . ] And by that I mean [ he ticks them off on his fingers; ] action, adventure, and romance. Bit of a sucker for that sort. [ then, conspiratorially; ] Don't tell anyone.

[notrosesshadow]

[Martha smiles back at him as he ticks off what he's looking for.] As you wish!

[The quote came naturally, because that was a story about action, adventure, and romance. But she wouldn't steal it. She could fashion her own.]

I think I have just the one for you. Time travel, saving the world, a possible kiss. Interested?

[acerbic]

[ He grins all over again; the prospect of a story—or, at least hearing another voice besides his own—has his spirits drawn a little higher, away from their slow decline. ]

Time travel! [ Oh what a thing... ] I used to think it was all hogwash. Now...

[ Now he's heard stories. ]

You have my attention.

Day 2, voice (ID: Enoch)

[warriorscribe]

[Enoch left once and didn't stay out long, venturing just far south enough to find some rubble and then returning to that one same house he woke up in. This time, it wasn't his footwear that impeded him, but the atmosphere, the paranoia settling heavily in his gut while everything his mind is rejected it. It was enough to make him feel ill, and he didn't feel much like moving from the couch after returning.

Instead, he left the tablet on, listening to the network. Most of his attempts to respond were held back by suspicion that was so very unlike him, little jabs of unease at the back of his mind telling him what if they're in on it. It just so happened Hawke was one of the ones he actually managed to respond to, though getting positioned for a video feed would require more effort than he was willing to expend at this point.]

I've never heard of this... [A pause as he hazily takes a guess at the noun that adjective belongs to.] Orlesia? It sounds unpleasant.

[It's really just stalling while he thinks of a story to tell. He's getting restless, cooped up in here with nothing but the cold, network chatter, and encroaching paranoia.]

[acerbic]

[ Hawke doesn't even hesitate to respond. True, someone on the other end of this might be the one responsible, but that just means it gives everyone else the upperhand. People always give tells and with dozens of others watching, listening, observing, at least a handful would be able to put pieces together.

Maybe that's why he's in this puzzle house.

He grins at the screen, uncaring that he's only got a voice to speak back to rather than a face. Not someone from Thedas, then. No matter. ]

Close. Orlais, actually. And it's not so bad; they're just dramatic on the whole. And somehow they've made their hams taste of despair. Waste of a good pig, if you ask me.

[warriorscribe]

[He'd laugh a bit more at the thought of despair having a taste. But he's tasted vileness and that's close enough, and so thoroughly unpleasant all that comes out is a weak little chuckle, an attempt to be polite in the face of a joke.

And so the conversation can't actually head in the direction of said unpleasantness, he steers it back to the story.]

I see... So what sort of story would you like to hear? Most of my years have been lived in a desert, so I don't think snow will be much of a problem.

[Not that it never snowed; desert nights were very cold, after all. But it wasn't likely to stick around after the sun rose like this.]

[acerbic]

I truly won't be offended if there is snow in the story.

[ He was merely being cute, considering their surroundings. ]

Whatever you feel like sharing, I'm here to listen.

text; id: MarbleHornets

[genreblindness]

You've never seen a tablet before? Where are you from?

[Jay's already noticed that some of the people on the network sound weirdly unaccustomed to technology. Might as well try to find out what's up with that.

Maybe they're all Amish or something.]

[acerbic]

Stone tablets, maybe. Ancient things. Spooky things. But, these with magic, no.

I'm from the Free Marches. Kirkwall, more specifically.

[genreblindness]

[Okay, that's not even Amish. That's just crazy.]

>Never heard of either of those places. Is that in Europe?

[acerbic]

[ It's ~fantasy~, friend. ]

No, never heard of Europe. It's in Thedas.

day 002 - video - ID: fenris

[scowls]

[ Last night, Fenris slept uneasily, waking often, wary and too on edge to settle into truly restful sleep. And after spending all day slogging through snow and poking around rubble, he is cold, tired, and feeling unpleasant. It starts slowly, just a bit of uneasiness he puts down to knowing that Hawke is out there somewhere, facing Maker knows what without him. By now, he just feels ill.

He assumes that it stems from something wrong with the tiny bit of food he’d eaten that morning. He’d found it in the pack by the abandoned coat and had tried a few pieces: small squares of thin, evidently stale bread, considering how hard and tasteless they were. Perhaps too stale, he thinks now.

Sitting against a wall in the new house, wearing the coat and now wrapped in a thin, mostly useless blanket, he props the….whatever against his drawn up knees and has the spirit activate it, using the square like Hawke had taught him. He means to call for him, but Hawke finds him first. ]

You would lose all your money if you played. We could try, however. From memory since we haven’t the actual cards.

[acerbic]

[ The day has been strange overall, increasingly more so as the day wore on. Far more than the first. He's not sure what's going on here, but he doesn't like it much. Though, he's keeping that to himself as he's still unsure of everything and doesn't know enough of what's going on. But, as usual, when he gets the flickering picture response from Fenris, a good deal of Hawke's worries and troubles melt away.

What he wouldn't give to be with him now—keeping each other warm and safe. He's got no real clue where he is or where Fenris is and the bloody curfew keeps him central to the one house he can see. He's not set on pressing his luck just yet.

Hawke smiles as he does when dealing with Fenris and settles himself more comfortably. If they can't be together in person, then this will have to do. He would sleep easier this way, with Fenris right here. ]

A fine boast coming from you! I remember many a night you lost your coin as well. But, I'm positive Varric cheats, so it's inevitable.

[scowls]

[ Even if they cannot be together, to see Hawke and speak with him now is an improvement over the rest of the day. It is not an easy thing, knowing that he’s here somewhere yet unable to find him. ]

Of course he cheats. He’s a dwarf.

[ Though really, he would say that about everyone. Human, elf, dwarf; the only one he would not suspect of cheating is a qunari and only one who is not Tal-Vashoth. ]

And I have gotten better.

[ No, no he hasn’t. Years from now, he’ll probably still be trying to win back all the coin Varric stole from him during their card games. ]

Where are you? Still in the house of too many puzzles?

[acerbic]

[ Hawke gives a small smile; Fenris really hasn't gotten better, as it were. Used to the game and rules, at least.

He's trying not to think about the distance between them. They've been separated for so long already. What's another day? Another week? He doesn't want to admit that when he was outside today and all he saw was snow, snow, and more snow, that he became anxious at the thought that right now he has no idea how much distance separates them. What if they set out to search and go in the opposite directions? ]

Yes, still here. I did go out for a bit today, though didn't find much of anything besides rubble. And a handful of nails. What about you?

day 1; text [ID: Deacon]

[anygoodstories]

I would say messenger birds were at the least outstripped upon the invention of the telegraph. Or upon the invention of paying people to deliver the mail themselves. Then again I feel birds may be better at staying on task.

[Not Staying on Task: Exhibit A.]

However, you are correct: birds have the highest rate of all these things of shitting on someone's shoes. Then again, get into a proper fight and you may get a mail courier to bite you. So enjoy!

[acerbic]

Haven't heard of a telegraph before. We do have messengers, however, who get paid for delivering missives at times.

Sometimes. I assume, at least. Though, that's not their only job, so it's just marginally related.

I've been bitten by a shopkeep once, no messenger, though. Learn new things about yourself every day.

[anygoodstories]

I'm going to assume you're one of those people not from Earth instead of living under a rock. But a telegraph is a nifty little invention from around the 1800s that used electronic signals to transmit written text from one output point to an input-- sort of like how these tablets are transmitting signals but much more primitive and requiring the use of wires and circuits instead of just wave reception. Very handy when the couriers weren't available.


Were they a pet shop employer or a restaurant manager? Honestly I really sort of want to hear this story.

[acerbic]

None of that makes any lick of sense to me, just so you're aware. I'll take your word on it, but have no real clue what you're talking about.

[ From telegraph to 1800s to electronic signals to output and input to wires and circuits to wave reception. This is like an entirely different language. ]

Neither. We don't really have anything like a pet shop. Not in Kirkwall, anyway. If you want a pet, you go catch one. Or know someone who has a litter of mabari... unless they choose you first. This was just a general wares shop. I was in need of a new whetstone and thought to check while I was passing through a village. I won't bore with all the details, but suffice to say some bandits were there attempting to make off with goods and coin and out of the goodness of my heart, I stepped in and there was a bit of a scuffle. Some things were broken along the way, but the bandits cleared out and somehow I wound up being bitten as thanks. All because a door may have broken off the hinges and a window may have gotten broken.

day 2 - video - ID: claytonator

[dr_unconscious]

[It appears that Clayton and Hawke are of similar states of mind by the second night. When he starts his reply, it's a video looking up from his knee; he has the tablet propped between it and his chest, with himself (pale, limp, and with eyes half-closed, looking not unlike he's just finished running a marathon on a full stomach) propped against the foot of his bed. The frame is pleasantly cool and sturdy to lie against. It's also facing the bathroom. Both of these things are very useful for treating Clayton's persistent nausea, so he's elected to stay there until conditions improve.]

[Bumming around on the network, looking for updates and people to talk to, is his way of passing the time. It would also be a good way to check in on the people he's met, but Clayton is a little too tired to process all of that information straight away. Stories will have to do.]

Think I've got a couple. [Clayton flashes a grin, which is strained enough that it almost resembles more of a grimace.] You still awake enough fer one?

[acerbic]

[ Hawke gives a smile in return, because why not? No one seems particularly enchanted to be here and he appreciates people are responding to him as he doesn't feel like he's going to get much sleep at all. Not like it would be the first time he doesn't get sleep... ]

Oh yes, I think I can manage.

[dr_unconscious]

Good. [Clayton chuckles somewhat ruefully.] 'Cause I might not get all the way through myself. Ah...

[There's a long pause while he scratches his beard and stares off at the opposite wall, pondering over where best to start.]

...You ever been to a zoo, bud? [This seems like a safe question to ask. If trends continue as Clayton's seen them, chances are that this guy doesn't even know what a zoo is.]

[acerbic]

[ Well, he'd be right in assuming Hawke doesn't know, because the curious, questioning look settles on his face for a moment. ]

Never even heard of one. What is it?