EML: As soon as I get off work I'll nail it down. I've got three (or four, depending on whether I keep Cherenkov Knight or not -- probably not) empty
slots, and budgeting for more next month, so it should be good for a while.![[Image: smile.gif]](http://www.ezboard.com/intl/aenglish/images/emoticons/smile.gif)
And just so this isn't a totally content-free post, here's the bio/origin I'm thinking of using for Nano Sabre:
----
I ... I don't know who I am. I remember the room with the lights, and the wires snaking down into my head. I remember blue robots -- BUMA? -- and
explosions and friendship... but it's all foggy and ... who am I? I'm not the cute one, nor the stern one, or the tough one or the fast one...
I'm nobody.
The marks on my armor and my scattered memories say that I'm a prototype. A prototype of what? I don't know! I'm somebody's creation... am I
even really alive?
I remember the escape. The startled expressions of my rescuers -- the ones who look so much like the friends I remember. They don't know who I am
either... their memories must be as fragmented as mine.
But I know my place. It is at their side, fighting to help others like me. And maybe, someday, they'll remember me, and I'll know who I am.
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs
slots, and budgeting for more next month, so it should be good for a while.
![[Image: smile.gif]](http://www.ezboard.com/intl/aenglish/images/emoticons/smile.gif)
And just so this isn't a totally content-free post, here's the bio/origin I'm thinking of using for Nano Sabre:
----
I ... I don't know who I am. I remember the room with the lights, and the wires snaking down into my head. I remember blue robots -- BUMA? -- and
explosions and friendship... but it's all foggy and ... who am I? I'm not the cute one, nor the stern one, or the tough one or the fast one...
I'm nobody.
The marks on my armor and my scattered memories say that I'm a prototype. A prototype of what? I don't know! I'm somebody's creation... am I
even really alive?
I remember the escape. The startled expressions of my rescuers -- the ones who look so much like the friends I remember. They don't know who I am
either... their memories must be as fragmented as mine.
But I know my place. It is at their side, fighting to help others like me. And maybe, someday, they'll remember me, and I'll know who I am.
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs