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This is the fourth blanket Sara Dale has done for me.   She does amazing work.   She made it for me for my granddaughter Brixley. 

The auction will be held April 3rd at 3pm est.  Get your items in the auction house mailbox before the list is full. 

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/ashes-of-star-treks-scotty-smuggled-on-to-international-space-station-6lpgs05n6?fbclid=IwAR0Hq-lgz96YjFrOF4SzChnrMj5Gm5fFCrwidB7zsfkrJ6I0nmuGa2grWQQ

Will be held on Dec 5th at 3pm est.  There is a new mailbox set up at the auction house to drop your items into.  Limit of 4 items per person.

https://www.statesman.com/business/20200612/garriottrsquos-latest-adventure-deepest-parts-of-sea?fbclid=IwAR27Nj1BrsgBzqzmP8ke2uHuGtz_gW9rvQ0tvBfcaDunreMzuH2UWLhGtYU

Started this for her to make a post.

lol

Go to the Brit commons and get your gift.

https://uo.com/2019/07/09/happy-summer-a-special-gift-for-you/?fbclid=IwAR02BKtFbE8_-KxZkuuAg-ZDTyLE-rSTMQULBx4hqeKOTrHAw5SvUlsdSwE

Of course ours is at the luna stable.

I hopped a plane from Cleveland Oh, to West Palm Beach Fl.  After taking a Xanax to calm my nerves, I arrived safe and sound.   Malloc told Sarah not to pick me up, but Malo made her.  Thanks Malo !!!   Waiting what seemed to be an eternity, luggage finally arrived.  30 seconds later, this young man claimed I had his luggage.  Indignant, I showed him the name on the ticket.  OMG I cant believe it had his name!  We had the exact same luggage.  I blame that mistake on the Xanax. Due to the fact that I had been up since 3am, we had to stop for coffee.  Sarah said I kept falling asleep and snoring, but I swear I wasn't. 

Finally arrived at Sarah's and Malo's beautiful home, where Sarah whipped me up some cheesy scrambled eggs and cheesy grits, bacon and toast.  No matter what Sarah says, I only ate my own toast. 

Later on we went to the pool, where I got us invited to this swinging St Patty's day party.  My date for this party was an 84 yr old, VERY hard of hearing man.  Did i say VERY hard of hearing?  My dollar for the raffle somehow got lost in the pool which was found later.  Notice all the beads Sarah and I collected at party.  Not sure who conked out first, but notice one of the sectors didn't get done.    More to follow tomorrow.

Get them from the clicky at Luna mint.  Watch for thieves!

https://uo.com/2019/01/17/developer-meet-greet-and-castle-contest/?fbclid=IwAR1R-dS1tkNe-C8pi_DCOL4GwSwtijyLH4V1cdh1zFOuHNyuNzbqbsB_Lyw

Developer Meet & Greet and Castle Contest
Posted on January 17, 2019 by Mesanna
Greetings everyone,

The next meet and greet will be on Drachenfels,  January 28th at 2 pm ET.  We  look forward to seeing you there.

Since we just finished a Keep only contest we are going to do a Castle only this time.  We will be wiping TC1 tomorrow for everyone that wants to submit your new Castle design for voting.

Good luck everyone we look foward to seeing everyones creativity.

UO Team

I sent mine to the bank while i was fishing.  They lost the caddellite tag.  Anyone else have this issue??   Dont send them to your bank.

https://uo.com/2018/09/14/contest-housing-pricing-2/

9/14/2018

Greetings,

Thank you to everyone who has provided feedback on the cost of the contest houses.  We will be updating Origin & Baja this afternoon to reflect new prices.  Izumo will receive updated pricing with its next normally scheduled maintenance.

The cost of these homes for Siege Perilous will be reflective of the increased value of gold on Siege compared to production shards.

The new costs for new homes will be as follows,

Production

Event of the year!

It is now year 394 in UO time.  Stash that away in the useless information part of your brain.

Carrick McGee the governor of Skara Brae will host a trivia contest on May 12th at 3pm est at the Nujelm checkerboard.   First place will be 1 mill 2nd place 500k, and 3rd will be 250k.  This is a guard zone so all are welcome.

Seems someone created another CharGar character.  Please do not do any trades whatsoever with this person.  I will always wear my Gil tag as well.  Also, don't friend any CharGar to any houses.

The farmers turned themselves in. What else could they do? None of them  really wanted to become murderers. Well, except for Gregorio, who already  was one. He was last seen fleeing past the Ranger station.   

Saorise was taken to the Skara healers, but they could do very little for her.  Their best efforts only managed to slow the effects of the Dooting. The Royal  guard sent a contingent of the Black Watch to the Abyss, to find out what the  goblins had done to the fields, and hopefully find some clue as to a cure. 

So, with the Skara healers unable to cure her, Saorise Kilkenny was transported  by Royal magic to a the hut of Urania, a healer who lived as a hermit in the  wilds of Ilshnear, not far from the Sorceror’s dungeon. It was said that she had  knowledge of ancient healing arts, but even she said it would take a long while  before the governor would be fit for office again.   
Before Saorise slipped into a coma, and between “doots”, she asked the guard  to send word to King Blackthorn, formally requesting that Carrick McGee take  over her duties until she was well again. She also asked that the matter of the  farms be given top priority, and the king might remember compassion when it  came to judging the farmers. After all, they were fighting for their livelihoods,  and for the coffers of Skara Brae. 

Carrick grudgingly moved into the governor’s office, and started tidying up.  While she was picking up all the paper strewn everywhere, something caught  her eye. A letter. 

“Dear governor. We have been asking you for months to sort out the ferryman.  He is charging exorbitant rates, and taking advantage of our daughters! If you  do not do something by the new moon, we will have to take matters into our  own hands! Trust me, you will not like that very much at all! Signed, The  Rangers of Skara Brae” 
Carrick looked at the calendar that she’d just put on the wall. New moon? That  was … today. She gulped.  An arrow came flying through the window, and embedded itself in the  calendar. Carrick dived under the table, and started casting a spell for a  moongate. It seemed it simply didn’t pay to take on the governorship of Skara  Brae!    =The End=

I would like to thank EM Kincaid for these marvelous I have been posting.

Saorise woke from a sleep filled with nightmares. Her hands and feet were  now completely numb, and she hurt everywhere. Her head was still ringing,  and, from the sticky feeling down her side, she’d been bleeding where she’d  been kicked. But what had woken her was movement â€" her movement as she  was hefted upwards in a most undignified way, and dropped onto what felt  like a chair. She gasped, and tried not to cry out. 

The sack was whipped off her head. Before her, around the table, sat five  large, weather‐worn men. She recognised some of them from the farmer’s  market. These WERE the local farmers! But why would they treat her this way?  “Eat it!” barked a voice from behind her, as her head was jerked back by her  hair, and something horrible was shoved into her mouth. She recognised the  taste â€" it matched the horrible smell in the air. 

A hand was clamped over her mouth, keeping her from spitting it out.   â€œSwallow!” barked the voice. She tried not to, but fear made her obey. She felt  extremely ill as whatever it was descended to her stomach.   â€œYou see? DO YOU SEE?” screamed one of the farmers, standing up, both fists  on the table. “DO YOU BELIEVE US NOW?”  Saorise gulped, trying not to throw up. “Believe you? I don’t even know what  this is all about! What was that? Why have a bunch of farmers kidnapped me?  What are you doing? I want to go home!”
No. She wasn’t going to cry. These brutes would not get that satisfaction. She  glared back at them. “You knock me over the head, you leave a known  murderer to guard me, you tie me up, you force‐feed me something horrible,  and then you want to know what I believe???  I believe you are all insane!”  “Wait. Delmore. I don’t think she gets it.” said one of the farmers. “Mebbe you  should explain it to her. Use little words. I think she might be simple.” 

She glared at him even harder.   Yeah, you might be right. That might explain why she’s let this go on so long.”  said another farmer â€" this must be Delmore. She pictured him in a prisoner’s  outfit, languishing in a jail cell. That gave her a little comfort.   â€œRight miss governor. You can read, can’t you?” He sneered at her.  “Yes, I can read! And I’m not simple! But I’m starting to think you are!”  “Shaddup!” barked the voice behind her “and eat this!”  Another mouthful of  the fetid substance was forced into her mouth.

Again, she had to give in and  swallow it. She was starting to feel really ill â€" and was the room getting hotter?  “That’s enough Tracy. We don’t want her dying on us before we’ve got results,  do we?” said Delmore.   â€œSo, you can read. So, why did you ignore all the letters we sent to your office?  Why have you been leaving Skara’s fields to suffer from whatever it is the  goblins did to them? WHY have you done NOTHING? The people have to  import food from Britain now! We are starving â€" our farms are our livelihood!  But now, anyone who eats our crops comes down with a terrible case of the  dooting!  And there you sit, where we found you, smug as you please, doing  NOTHING!”  Saorise stared at him. “What letters? What crops? And what’s a dooting?”  “Over 500 letters! We wrote and wrote to you! Begging for your help! Begging!  And what do we get from the high and mighty governor of Skara Brae?  Nothing! Well, now you’ve got it. Eating that much goblinitus infected cabbage  will have given you the dootings for sure!” 
Saorise was starting to feel really ill. The room was starting to tilt. She found a  strange noise coming from her mouth: “Doot. Doot” she said. She looked  puzzled and horrified.

“When… when did you send these letters?” she gulped “and where to?”  “ Ha! You’ve got it! That’s the dooting! We sent them letters to your Abyssdamned office of course! And we’ve been begging you for help for the last FIVE  YEARS!!!”.
Delmore was starting to froth at the mouth.  “But â€" doot ‐ but â€" I’ve only been governor for three weeks!” Saorise wailed.  “You can’t hold me responsible for â€" doot ‐ things past governors might have  or have not done!!!”
“What?”   Delmore sat down abruptly.  “Three doot weeks!!!” She screamed. “Three weeks, you doot idiot! I’ve barely  started getting the hang of doot things! You could have come and talked to  me! You didn’t have to send your doot thug to knock me over the head!” 
“Wait. They CHANGE governors?” Delmore looked completely taken aback.  Saorise could almost hear gears turning in his brain, as realisation dawned.    “Yes they change governors! Regularly!” she whispered, the room starting to  turn a pasty orange. “What did you doot to me?” 
“Oh by British’s blighted beard! We’ve given her the dootings! Get a healer!  Fast!” Screamed the voice from behind her. “You idiots! Did nobody think to  check if we’d got the right governor?!?” 

“I’d have helped you if you’d only come talk…” Saorise mumbled, as the room  flipped over, and she fell to the floor with a crash. Everything went turquoise,  which, she thought as she passed out, was an improvement on black. 

Carrick found herself staring at the boots of the Royal Detective. He’d come to  his current position after sneaking in the window at the back of the governor’s  office, tripping over a fallen chair, and having the guard unceremoniously hurl  him out the door, very neatly flying between the bright yellow sashes.   

“And what have we here?” asked the large gargoyle. “Is this one of the  perpetrators?”  Carrick scrambled to her feet, only to find a large hand on her shoulder. That  guard again. People shouldn’t be allowed to grow that big! 
“No sir. This, sir, is one of the governor’s distant cousins or aunts or uncles or  some such, sir. She was here earlier, trying to find out what happened to the  governor sir. Shall I toss her in the clink, sir?” 

“No, no. That will not be necessary. Her boots are too small. I have studied all  the footprints around this building, and they were made by a much larger  person. Almost your size, in fact. Slightly shorter, I’d estimate. Your boot prints  are slightly deeper than theirs. And yours do not stink of cabbage.”  The hand left Carrick’s shoulder. “Very good sir. I will continue to stand guard  sir. Sir!” He saluted, turned, and stomped back to the doorway.   

“So, as you may know, I am Saengkt Ver Beh, the Royal Detective. You, I  surmise, must be Carrick McGee. Don’t look so surprised. I already researched  the governor, all her relatives, her known habits, hobbies, and fetishes. You  want to know what happened to her. Understandable. All we know so far is  that she was kidnapped by a rather large individual, and that vegetables are  involved. Also, judging by letters found in the office, certain individuals have  been writing to the governor for over five years, complaining about a malady  found in the nearby fields. All the letters were sent with fictitious names and  addresses. Names like “Stompin Magrapes” or “Diggin Fields”. Not terribly  imaginative. Not even for a human. “ 

“The footprints lead towards the ferry. I have already interrogated the  ferryman. He remembers seeing a local character with an infamous reputation  crossing with a large roll of carpet over his shoulder.  Do not take action â€" I  shall alert the Royal Guard, and we will approach this brigand in the manner he  deserves.”  Carrick nodded, and watched the gargoyle flap his way towards the moongate.   â€œDon’t take action” he mused “Ha! You don’t know me, do you, Mr Beh?”

Saorise woke up with the worst headache she’d ever known. It was dark â€" no,  no â€" there was something over her head. It felt like a sack. 

Nearby something shuffled. There was a terrible smell, but she couldn’t tell if it  was the sack, or whoever was in the room.   â€œHello?” She offered nervously “Is someone there?”  A sharp pain in her side took her breath away, and she cried out. Someone had  kicked her, hard. She quivered with fear, and cried “Please! Don’t hurt me!  What do you want?”  Another kick. She bit her lip, and decided to be quiet.   

A door opened, and heavy footsteps could be heard on a wooden floor.   â€œGregorio! I said you could help. I agreed to your price. But I did not agree to  let you use the governor as your own private bagball! Leave her alone, you  despicable brigand!” 
An annoyed grunt was the only reply. Gregorio? The murderer? He was  terrifying! The town guards had a list of crimes against him as long as her arm!  And she was tied up, unable to see, in the same room as that monster? Despite  herself, she whimpered.   Strong, but comparatively gentle hands lifted her to a sitting position.  “I apologise for Gregorio’s behaviour. He is what he is. I suppose I should not  expect any better from him. But the boss will be here soon. Then you will have  some answers.”  Saorise trembled, only slightly more at ease, and said nothing.  The footsteps left. She could only hope that Gregorio had left as well. 
She was tied so tightly that she could barely feel her hands or feet. Besides,  she had never been one for the ways of the rangers. She was a crafter, a maker  of things. The intricacies of advanced knots were beyond her, but obviously not  beyond her captors. There were at least two of them â€" but what did they  want? And what was that smell? 

She tried to get comfortable, but failed. Hopefully “the boss”, whoever he was,  would get here soon. 

The sun beat down on Skara Brae, much like an angry cyclopean warrior trying  to crush its enemy. The humidity was stifling â€" the perils of being surrounded  by the sea.  

Carrick McGee mopped her brow, and tried once more to see past the  extremely large Royal Guard, into the governor’s office. She couldn’t see much.  Papers were strewn everywhere, chairs were overturned, and there was a  strange smell of cabbages.   Despite her best efforts, the guard wasn’t talking. Even the mug of ale Carrick  had fetched from the Shattered Skull Inn failed to get more than two words  out of the man. Unfortunately, those two words were “get lost”.  

Carrick and her mug of ale withdrew to the nearby Counsellor’s Guild, and  found a seat, where the two became very close. Where was Saorise? It was not  even a month since she had been appointed governor. Surely she could not  have made any enemies in that short time? She had dropped by to give her a newly made oak filing cabinet that she had wanted â€" she’d been given it by a grateful carpenter at The Builder’s Delight after catching a thieving goblin that  had been plaguing the workshops.  

After the ale had gone its merry way, Carrick wandered back to the governor’s  office. The guard was still there, but bright yellow sashes had been bound  across the doorway, with the words “Guard Line : Do not cross” being written  on it by a small elf wearing the mark of the Scribe’s Guild.  

Nodding to the guard, the elf headed for the moongate. Carrick followed.  Grabbing the scribe by the robe, she spun him around. “Talk!” she hissed “Tell  me where Governor Kilkenny is! Why is her office roped off?”  â€œEEEEEEE!” squealed the elf, dropping pens and ink everywhere. “Don’t hurt  me! It’s not graffiti! The Guard Captain paid me to do it!”   Carrick loosened her grip slightly. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m looking for  Saorise! What do you know?”  

“Very little, sir. Very little. The guard said that it looked like there was a tussle  in her office. They think she’s been taken! They paid me to put warning signs  across the door so nobody will disturb the evidence until the Royal Detective  can get here!”  
Carrick let go of the elf’s robe, and pretended to help straighten his clothes.  â€œThank you, good sir. I wish you well. Happy scribing!”  

The elf made a rude gesture, and dived through the moongate as fast as he  could go.