Nebularoace they/them call me Foalin “No doubt I’ll tire of this eventually, but for now… I am content.” -Murtagh ALL HAIL MERLIN! [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] = [roll][roll:-6]+[roll:-5]+[roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
I love how it's just straight to that rather than even wondering why.
well if you die what am i supposed to do? who am i supposed to talk to when Gato's not on?
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Nebularoace they/them call me Foalin “No doubt I’ll tire of this eventually, but for now… I am content.” -Murtagh ALL HAIL MERLIN! [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] = [roll][roll:-6]+[roll:-5]+[roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
I would like to perform a simple writing exercise as I need practice and I find the inhabitants of this Forum insane enough to provide remarkably nuanced feedback, as with the above addendums from various members to the classic phrase of one F. Flintstone.
The following is a story starter, my goal is to write a scene ranging 100-500 words that will end with an open-ended question to what the character (Mack) should do next. The answer will be taken from the first quote reply and the story continued. If you answer without using quote, I will not take that into effect on the story, but could be useful to imagine different answers or start miniature discussions.
Without further ado:
Mack's father was an elder and his mother often smelled of hamsterberries, so seeing how his pleasant cottage home was nothing more than a hovel and pile of dirt - that which was decidedly unpleasant. Mack decided he would leave his farmstead before he was driven insane, not of course by his family, they had done that quite well already, as Mak could no longer stand the smell of hay or berries or old people. (For everyone knows that elders have a certain smell to them, much like babies or small children. Not of course that this is their fault, it is something everyone has when they're young or when they suddenly become old). Nonetheless, Mack was having a perfectly horrible time mucking out the farm's stables when an idea came to his head - one could call this an epiphany and Mack certainly would have used such language had he been aware of the word's existence, but alas he did not - so Mack simply had an idea.
A simple idea some would argue, but Mack thought it was the most brilliant idea he had ever had. At least since the last time he had the idea where he could add honey on top of berries - which he thought was quite nice, but in reality he had simply forgotten that his friend Clieven had shown it to him (and who was rightly annoyed when Mack tried to claim the idea as his own). Either way I digress, Mack had an idea and that idea was to leave his home - which you will have known already if you were paying any attention earlier in the story, but as Mack thought of it in his own way, I felt the need to repeat how he came up with it.
In fiction (and life), I have found that there are really only two types of stories, 'a stranger comes to town' or 'somebody goes on a trip.' So you may be wondering why Mack thought leaving his life-long home was a rather novel idea - and that is because to Mack, no one had ever done it before. No one had ever come to town, and no one had ever gone on a trip. Theoretically Mack knew that tax collectors came to collect tithes and grain and crop reports and all those bureaucratic shenanigans that a farm boy never need learn, but when he asked his father when the tax collector came last year he received no answer. Which either meant one of two things, his father was asleep when Mack asked the question or that the tax collector hadn't come and Mack's father was hoping that by not acknowledging Mack with an answer, the tax collector would magically forget that the village now owed twelve-years of unpaid taxes. (Mack didn't know the latter, but his father did).
Nor had anyone else in Mack's nameless village ever gone on trips. Since everyone lived on their farms and only got together for festival or milling, no one really needed to leave their rolling hills. Besides, the only real road that led to town had been stripped away when the river burst its banks and washed all the pavement away forever - leaving only mud behind. Anyone who's stepped in real-thick mud knows that it is extremely hard to strip away all the mud from one's boots, so no one really left. Especially not since the hills to the East, West, and South of farmlands had been covered in a thick layer of ice and snow. Mack didn't know why the snow never completely melted despite how hot the summers got, and everyone seemed scared of hills to some extent, so no one left town in that direction either.
After Mack's epiphany, he prepared a satchel and bag, packing all the essentials: Oats, jerky, dried berries, a bag of flour, a flower (a daisy), a cord of hempen rope (20 ft), a change of clothes (rags really), a study brimmed hat, a cloak for colder weather, a small paring knife, a wooden recorder, and a trusty weathered billhook to serve as a defensive tool. Not one for over-thinking a problem (unlike the author), Mack departed his hovel before any pesky thoughts warned him of what a colossally bad idea this was and headed off away from town.
Where does Mack go next?
A) He travels northwards, following the path that the road once took,
B) He travels westwards into ever-snowy foothills
C) He travels eastwards into ever-snowy foothills
D) He travels southwards into ever-snowy foothills
If you wish, in addition to replying with an option, you may ask for something to be put into the story and I will try - to the best of my limited ability - to add it if it makes even a moderate amount of sense. Future options will be more open-ending and leave more room for personal choice, it's just I would prefer this to be a story where someone goes on a journey rather than Mack staying in his sad little town, but if people really want to explore the background of this unnamed village of mine I will leave an option in the future where Mack returns.
Thank you for taking your time to read my prose.
If I had a nickel for every time I used a dash or emdash in this post I'd have thirteen nickels, which isn't a lot, but is less than I thought it would be.
Also, as ever, if this is the last comment, the reward is a wheel of Pecorino Romano cheese.
I would like to perform a simple writing exercise as I need practice and I find the inhabitants of this Forum insane enough to provide remarkably nuanced feedback, as with the above addendums from various members to the classic phrase of one F. Flintstone.
The following is a story starter, my goal is to write a scene ranging 100-500 words that will end with an open-ended question to what the character (Mack) should do next. The answer will be taken from the first quote reply and the story continued. If you answer without using quote, I will not take that into effect on the story, but could be useful to imagine different answers or start miniature discussions.
Without further ado:
Mack's father was an elder and his mother often smelled of hamsterberries, so seeing how his pleasant cottage home was nothing more than a hovel and pile of dirt - that which was decidedly unpleasant. Mack decided he would leave his farmstead before he was driven insane, not of course by his family, they had done that quite well already, as Mak could no longer stand the smell of hay or berries or old people. (For everyone knows that elders have a certain smell to them, much like babies or small children. Not of course that this is their fault, it is something everyone has when they're young or when they suddenly become old). Nonetheless, Mack was having a perfectly horrible time mucking out the farm's stables when an idea came to his head - one could call this an epiphany and Mack certainly would have used such language had he been aware of the word's existence, but alas he did not - so Mack simply had an idea.
A simple idea some would argue, but Mack thought it was the most brilliant idea he had ever had. At least since the last time he had the idea where he could add honey on top of berries - which he thought was quite nice, but in reality he had simply forgotten that his friend Clieven had shown it to him (and who was rightly annoyed when Mack tried to claim the idea as his own). Either way I digress, Mack had an idea and that idea was to leave his home - which you will have known already if you were paying any attention earlier in the story, but as Mack thought of it in his own way, I felt the need to repeat how he came up with it.
In fiction (and life), I have found that there are really only two types of stories, 'a stranger comes to town' or 'somebody goes on a trip.' So you may be wondering why Mack thought leaving his life-long home was a rather novel idea - and that is because to Mack, no one had ever done it before. No one had ever come to town, and no one had ever gone on a trip. Theoretically Mack knew that tax collectors came to collect tithes and grain and crop reports and all those bureaucratic shenanigans that a farm boy never need learn, but when he asked his father when the tax collector came last year he received no answer. Which either meant one of two things, his father was asleep when Mack asked the question or that the tax collector hadn't come and Mack's father was hoping that by not acknowledging Mack with an answer, the tax collector would magically forget that the village now owed twelve-years of unpaid taxes. (Mack didn't know the latter, but his father did).
Nor had anyone else in Mack's nameless village ever gone on trips. Since everyone lived on their farms and only got together for festival or milling, no one really needed to leave their rolling hills. Besides, the only real road that led to town had been stripped away when the river burst its banks and washed all the pavement away forever - leaving only mud behind. Anyone who's stepped in real-thick mud knows that it is extremely hard to strip away all the mud from one's boots, so no one really left. Especially not since the hills to the East, West, and South of farmlands had been covered in a thick layer of ice and snow. Mack didn't know why the snow never completely melted despite how hot the summers got, and everyone seemed scared of hills to some extent, so no one left town in that direction either.
After Mack's epiphany, he prepared a satchel and bag, packing all the essentials: Oats, jerky, dried berries, a bag of flour, a flower (a daisy), a cord of hempen rope (20 ft), a change of clothes (rags really), a study brimmed hat, a cloak for colder weather, a small paring knife, a wooden recorder, and a trusty weathered billhook to serve as a defensive tool. Not one for over-thinking a problem (unlike the author), Mack departed his hovel before any pesky thoughts warned him of what a colossally bad idea this was and headed off away from town.
Where does Mack go next?
A) He travels northwards, following the path that the road once took,
B) He travels westwards into ever-snowy foothills
C) He travels eastwards into ever-snowy foothills
D) He travels southwards into ever-snowy foothills
If you wish, in addition to replying with an option, you may ask for something to be put into the story and I will try - to the best of my limited ability - to add it if it makes even a moderate amount of sense. Future options will be more open-ending and leave more room for personal choice, it's just I would prefer this to be a story where someone goes on a journey rather than Mack staying in his sad little town, but if people really want to explore the background of this unnamed village of mine I will leave an option in the future where Mack returns.
Thank you for taking your time to read my prose.
If I had a nickel for every time I used a dash or emdash in this post I'd have thirteen nickels, which isn't a lot, but is less than I thought it would be.
Also, as ever, if this is the last comment, the reward is a wheel of Pecorino Romano cheese.
Holy dang a civilized person on DDB!
also, I think (A) is logically the best choice, but I would love to see (D).
as i am here, it is now the time when i begin inserting myself into other people's conversations because of a rather extreme fear of being forgotten
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Nebularoace they/them call me Foalin “No doubt I’ll tire of this eventually, but for now… I am content.” -Murtagh ALL HAIL MERLIN! [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] = [roll][roll:-6]+[roll:-5]+[roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
as i am here, it is now the time when i begin inserting myself into other people's conversations because of a rather extreme fear of being forgotten
Same dude!!! Absolutely radical!!!
you keep using that word. i do not think i means what you think it means
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Nebularoace they/them call me Foalin “No doubt I’ll tire of this eventually, but for now… I am content.” -Murtagh ALL HAIL MERLIN! [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] = [roll][roll:-6]+[roll:-5]+[roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
as i am here, it is now the time when i begin inserting myself into other people's conversations because of a rather extreme fear of being forgotten
If you feel like giving suggestions, feel free.
foxes/fox
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Nebularoace they/them call me Foalin “No doubt I’ll tire of this eventually, but for now… I am content.” -Murtagh ALL HAIL MERLIN! [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] = [roll][roll:-6]+[roll:-5]+[roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
Nebularoace they/them call me Foalin “No doubt I’ll tire of this eventually, but for now… I am content.” -Murtagh ALL HAIL MERLIN! [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] = [roll][roll:-6]+[roll:-5]+[roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
AND I WANT OUTTA THIS SHITHOLE OF A HOUSE WHERE I CANT BREATHE WITHOUT GETTING F**KING PERMISSION AND NO ONE WILL LISTEN TO A GODDAMN WORD I SAY
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Nebularoace they/them call me Foalin “No doubt I’ll tire of this eventually, but for now… I am content.” -Murtagh ALL HAIL MERLIN! [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] = [roll][roll:-6]+[roll:-5]+[roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
doobabaabalaboopboo
…and his brother loved worms.
*Dies inside*
Here's a link to my Discord thing: The Dorky Dragon Tavern
"Avoid roasted cabbage, do not eat earwax, and look on the bright side of life." -Angela
this is Gato's way. [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] = [roll][roll:-6]+[roll:-5]+[roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
Hello, all! Foalin is my familiar, after a little conversation...
extended sig(click it): :3
NOOOOO!!!!!!!
Nebularoace they/them call me Foalin
“No doubt I’ll tire of this eventually, but for now… I am content.” -Murtagh
ALL HAIL MERLIN! [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] = [roll][roll:-6]+[roll:-5]+[roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
Hello all! I am Golden_Axolotl_Dragon's familiar, after a little conversation...
extended sig(click it) :3
I love how it's just straight to that rather than even wondering why.
Here's a link to my Discord thing: The Dorky Dragon Tavern
"Avoid roasted cabbage, do not eat earwax, and look on the bright side of life." -Angela
this is Gato's way. [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] = [roll][roll:-6]+[roll:-5]+[roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
Hello, all! Foalin is my familiar, after a little conversation...
extended sig(click it): :3
well if you die what am i supposed to do? who am i supposed to talk to when Gato's not on?
Nebularoace they/them call me Foalin
“No doubt I’ll tire of this eventually, but for now… I am content.” -Murtagh
ALL HAIL MERLIN! [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] = [roll][roll:-6]+[roll:-5]+[roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
Hello all! I am Golden_Axolotl_Dragon's familiar, after a little conversation...
extended sig(click it) :3
Well, there’s plenty of us, but the main problem is, who here bothers to prepare True Resurrection? (I don’t)
Edit: because we kinda need that spell rn
…and his brother loved worms.
I would like to perform a simple writing exercise as I need practice and I find the inhabitants of this Forum insane enough to provide remarkably nuanced feedback, as with the above addendums from various members to the classic phrase of one F. Flintstone.
The following is a story starter, my goal is to write a scene ranging 100-500 words that will end with an open-ended question to what the character (Mack) should do next. The answer will be taken from the first quote reply and the story continued. If you answer without using quote, I will not take that into effect on the story, but could be useful to imagine different answers or start miniature discussions.
Without further ado:
Mack's father was an elder and his mother often smelled of hamsterberries, so seeing how his pleasant cottage home was nothing more than a hovel and pile of dirt - that which was decidedly unpleasant. Mack decided he would leave his farmstead before he was driven insane, not of course by his family, they had done that quite well already, as Mak could no longer stand the smell of hay or berries or old people. (For everyone knows that elders have a certain smell to them, much like babies or small children. Not of course that this is their fault, it is something everyone has when they're young or when they suddenly become old). Nonetheless, Mack was having a perfectly horrible time mucking out the farm's stables when an idea came to his head - one could call this an epiphany and Mack certainly would have used such language had he been aware of the word's existence, but alas he did not - so Mack simply had an idea.
A simple idea some would argue, but Mack thought it was the most brilliant idea he had ever had. At least since the last time he had the idea where he could add honey on top of berries - which he thought was quite nice, but in reality he had simply forgotten that his friend Clieven had shown it to him (and who was rightly annoyed when Mack tried to claim the idea as his own). Either way I digress, Mack had an idea and that idea was to leave his home - which you will have known already if you were paying any attention earlier in the story, but as Mack thought of it in his own way, I felt the need to repeat how he came up with it.
In fiction (and life), I have found that there are really only two types of stories, 'a stranger comes to town' or 'somebody goes on a trip.' So you may be wondering why Mack thought leaving his life-long home was a rather novel idea - and that is because to Mack, no one had ever done it before. No one had ever come to town, and no one had ever gone on a trip. Theoretically Mack knew that tax collectors came to collect tithes and grain and crop reports and all those bureaucratic shenanigans that a farm boy never need learn, but when he asked his father when the tax collector came last year he received no answer. Which either meant one of two things, his father was asleep when Mack asked the question or that the tax collector hadn't come and Mack's father was hoping that by not acknowledging Mack with an answer, the tax collector would magically forget that the village now owed twelve-years of unpaid taxes. (Mack didn't know the latter, but his father did).
Nor had anyone else in Mack's nameless village ever gone on trips. Since everyone lived on their farms and only got together for festival or milling, no one really needed to leave their rolling hills. Besides, the only real road that led to town had been stripped away when the river burst its banks and washed all the pavement away forever - leaving only mud behind. Anyone who's stepped in real-thick mud knows that it is extremely hard to strip away all the mud from one's boots, so no one really left. Especially not since the hills to the East, West, and South of farmlands had been covered in a thick layer of ice and snow. Mack didn't know why the snow never completely melted despite how hot the summers got, and everyone seemed scared of hills to some extent, so no one left town in that direction either.
After Mack's epiphany, he prepared a satchel and bag, packing all the essentials: Oats, jerky, dried berries, a bag of flour, a flower (a daisy), a cord of hempen rope (20 ft), a change of clothes (rags really), a study brimmed hat, a cloak for colder weather, a small paring knife, a wooden recorder, and a trusty weathered billhook to serve as a defensive tool. Not one for over-thinking a problem (unlike the author), Mack departed his hovel before any pesky thoughts warned him of what a colossally bad idea this was and headed off away from town.
Where does Mack go next?
A) He travels northwards, following the path that the road once took,
B) He travels westwards into ever-snowy foothills
C) He travels eastwards into ever-snowy foothills
D) He travels southwards into ever-snowy foothills
If you wish, in addition to replying with an option, you may ask for something to be put into the story and I will try - to the best of my limited ability - to add it if it makes even a moderate amount of sense. Future options will be more open-ending and leave more room for personal choice, it's just I would prefer this to be a story where someone goes on a journey rather than Mack staying in his sad little town, but if people really want to explore the background of this unnamed village of mine I will leave an option in the future where Mack returns.
Thank you for taking your time to read my prose.
If I had a nickel for every time I used a dash or emdash in this post I'd have thirteen nickels, which isn't a lot, but is less than I thought it would be.
Also, as ever, if this is the last comment, the reward is a wheel of Pecorino Romano cheese.
#OpenD&D
Forever DM
Strangely obsessed with the Lords Alliance.
Godforsaken Pinkerton agents, Homestead Massacre much?
Formerly WoF Excelsior
;)
Holy dang a civilized person on DDB!
also, I think (A) is logically the best choice, but I would love to see (D).
also, gerberberbulubuk
…and his brother loved worms.
AAHjhfodwsah
Civilized? I think not...
But if you had to choose (which you do) which one of those choices would your gut lead you to?
Also thank you for reading.
#OpenD&D
Forever DM
Strangely obsessed with the Lords Alliance.
Godforsaken Pinkerton agents, Homestead Massacre much?
Formerly WoF Excelsior
;)
Np
my “safe, boring loser” instinct tells me (A), but my “cool person, danger guy, cool adventure” instinct tells me (D)
I would choose (D)
…and his brother loved worms.
as i am here, it is now the time when i begin inserting myself into other people's conversations because of a rather extreme fear of being forgotten
Nebularoace they/them call me Foalin
“No doubt I’ll tire of this eventually, but for now… I am content.” -Murtagh
ALL HAIL MERLIN! [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] = [roll][roll:-6]+[roll:-5]+[roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
Hello all! I am Golden_Axolotl_Dragon's familiar, after a little conversation...
extended sig(click it) :3
Same dude!!! Absolutely radical!!!
…and his brother loved worms.
you keep using that word. i do not think i means what you think it means
Nebularoace they/them call me Foalin
“No doubt I’ll tire of this eventually, but for now… I am content.” -Murtagh
ALL HAIL MERLIN! [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] = [roll][roll:-6]+[roll:-5]+[roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
Hello all! I am Golden_Axolotl_Dragon's familiar, after a little conversation...
extended sig(click it) :3
Thank yee boss. More following soon.
#OpenD&D
Forever DM
Strangely obsessed with the Lords Alliance.
Godforsaken Pinkerton agents, Homestead Massacre much?
Formerly WoF Excelsior
;)
If you feel like giving suggestions, feel free.
#OpenD&D
Forever DM
Strangely obsessed with the Lords Alliance.
Godforsaken Pinkerton agents, Homestead Massacre much?
Formerly WoF Excelsior
;)
foxes/fox
Nebularoace they/them call me Foalin
“No doubt I’ll tire of this eventually, but for now… I am content.” -Murtagh
ALL HAIL MERLIN! [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] = [roll][roll:-6]+[roll:-5]+[roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
Hello all! I am Golden_Axolotl_Dragon's familiar, after a little conversation...
extended sig(click it) :3
Website be working on my birthday
Merlin the wise
F**K I REALLY WANNA BURN SOMETHING!
Nebularoace they/them call me Foalin
“No doubt I’ll tire of this eventually, but for now… I am content.” -Murtagh
ALL HAIL MERLIN! [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] = [roll][roll:-6]+[roll:-5]+[roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
Hello all! I am Golden_Axolotl_Dragon's familiar, after a little conversation...
extended sig(click it) :3
AND I WANT OUTTA THIS SHITHOLE OF A HOUSE WHERE I CANT BREATHE WITHOUT GETTING F**KING PERMISSION AND NO ONE WILL LISTEN TO A GODDAMN WORD I SAY
Nebularoace they/them call me Foalin
“No doubt I’ll tire of this eventually, but for now… I am content.” -Murtagh
ALL HAIL MERLIN! [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] = [roll][roll:-6]+[roll:-5]+[roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
Hello all! I am Golden_Axolotl_Dragon's familiar, after a little conversation...
extended sig(click it) :3
bro I can't believe this thread has been going for nearly nine years