<strong>Name:</strong>Brandon Patterson / Sir Balthazar Tori ap’ Beaumayn<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>January 1st, 2018<br/><strong>Status:</strong><br/><strong>Notes/Triggers:</strong><br/><strong>Tagging: </strong>General<br/><hr/><hr/><br/><br/><br/>Sir Balthazar's mailbox was a banal place these days.  He'd been in one place long enough to have attraced an ever increasing flow of advertasments, catlouges, and meaningless bits of paperwork.  The long haired giant still went out to it every day with a sense of expectation, for among that chaff he freqently found a jewel--a letter from a reader.  Emails of feedback were lovely in and of themselves, but the glamour in a reader taking their time to set pen to paper and express apreciation for one of his books was uniquely magical.<br/><br/>Upon reading the letter he'd found in his mailbox among the ever growing stacks, Sir Balthazar spoke softly, mostly to himself, "I live for your pleasure, my lady."<br/><br/>The big man gathered his gear--including his campaing supplies and a dozen naval oranges--and tossed them into his old Ford--a blue pickup truck so big most people looked ridiculous getting out of it.  Baltahzar had to duck a little.  On the way to the meeting place, he stopped at McDonalds and grabbed three egg mcmuffin combos--each with their biggest orange juice.  He ate on the way.