Greetings, I am Blaze Keeper, the protector of my family’s eternal flame that has been passed down through my family for generations. It is important for me to protect, but I guess I don't really need to watch it to much, I mean it can't be put out... ever. I mean I guess you could if you really tired, I mean take away all the air or something drastic like that but who cares that much. So I am writing this part down because, thought I trust him, I do want to part of this to be written by the actual and amazing Blaze Keeper. I have ventured from the one end of Equestria to the other. I have seen what few ponies could come near imagining. I have always had two goals when I go out. One is the most important part of my adventuring, finding strange artifacts that do strange things. The second is something I have yearned for. I have come so close, so many times... I want to live forever. Never age and be strong for the rest of my life. The only thing that could top that is if I become a regenerating super pony or something along the lines of being indestructible at the same time living forever and being young.
As for description I am a devilishly handsome stallion in the prime of his life, and if its up to me I will stay like this. I have a blood red, kinda scarlet coat. I also have two curved horns that end points toward the sky. I wasn't born like this, it is just a constant of the choices I have made through life, a good example is that I have no cutie mark and will never receive one. That is for another time though, this is just a quick type of intro. Continuing with my description, I will never be seen without my suit. I never worry about its condition because I can always fix it. I wear a black bowler hat, to match the suit. My horns poke through the rim, can be a small inconvenience but I have gotten used to it. I occasionally carry what amounts to be a spotty gray bag with a closed eye in the middle of it. It only opens when it is highly stressed out. My mane used be a light orange, but is now a an even darker red than my coat. I am a proper stallion and wear gold rimmed, round, glasses. Not because my vision is bad but, yet again, don't want to ruin the surprise. I like to keep everything I write or live interesting. My mane looks like a solid red flame. It used to look like real fire when the wind blew it about but that was before... my life changed forever. Blaze put down his fountain pen and looked over what he wrote. He folded it and put it in his breast pocket. He stood up and made his way from his office to his work room and began to tinker about all throughout the morning. Today was different, today he told his story.
“Jenkins, did I ever tell you about the time I scaled the royal castle?” Blaze asked while he worked on a pile scrap metal. The metal on the table was varied in size, shape, and material.
Clacking of dishes were heard as a pony dressed in a overly fancy red suit trotted into the room. He carried a tray holding two cups with his horn and fixed his bow tie with his hoofs. “Yes sir, you have.” He said with his raspy voice. The butler was an older pony, at least by looks. Not even Blaze new how old this butler actually was. He found Jenkins in a collapsing castle in the middle of the desert. He was wearing ancient garb that, at the time, was probably as expensive as the current suit he is wearing at this very moment. But that is a story for a different time.
Blaze looked up from his pile of metal. “Jenkins, can you try and figure out how to rebuild Sprocket?” Blaze got up from his stool and walked up toward his ancient butler. He grabbed a cup off of the tray and walked into the hallway toward his bathroom. He got halfway there before he remembered what he wanted to do today. He turned around and went back into the room.
“Jenkins, I remembered today you will need to make a large pot of.... what ever drink you make that I like.” Blaze stopped in surprise at what he saw. Jenkins was putting the final touches on Sprocket. Sprocket was Blaze's cat. He found Sprockets metallic husk in a abandoned house outside the husk of Apple Loosa, but that is a story for a another time.
“Sir, I have finished with the task you assigned me with.” Jenkins closed a hatch located on Sprockets head and the steampunk felines eyes lite up in dim golden glow. The sound of turning gears and a gentle squeak was a welcome sound to Blazes ears. Sprocket had been recently been been torn to bits by a group of timber wolfs.
Blaze smiled as Sprocket jumped onto his back and meowed with a screech. Most people would hate this sound but him and Sprocket had been through a lot. “Good to have you back. That is my favorite part of you little guy. You can break and get smashed but all we have to do is rebuild you and find you a new power source.” Blaze cringed as Sprockets blade like claws dug into his back as the cat ran down the hall clanking with every step.
The butler saw a small amount of blood starting to form around the wounds left by the curious over energized cat. He pulled out a small white cloth from his breast pocket and wiped up the blood. “Sir would you like me to get you a bandage?”
“No, I am fine J. But as I was saying, today I need you to take notes. I am going to tell you my life story today for I am going out adventuring again for the first time in years. I am closer than ever before to finding what I want and I finally found a group that I think can handle the journey.” Blaze waved his butler to follow him. The two well dressed ponies walked out into the main room of Blaze's underground home. The fire place in the middle of the room was burning hot and supplied a large amount of the light in the room. Blaze glanced at the fire then chuckled to himself. To think, that has been burning for longer than me or my father, the eternal flame of our family, the symbol of our heritage. Blaze turned to his trusty butler. “Alright J. do you have everything you need?” Blaze asked as he sat down on his throne that was in his houses main room. It had skulls etched in the handles and golden accents.
The butler took out a pen and note pad from his tailed coat and prepared to receive a lot of information. Blaze cleared his throat and settled in. “I guess I should start from.... hold that thought.” Blaze stood up and grabbed an a foggy glass orb from an end table and sat back down. “I guess I can tell AND show you.” Blaze took the orb and raised it above his head then he forced it to the ground with all his might. The orb grew a slight crack and and the glass became clear instead of foggy. It looked as it the cloudiness from the orb flowed around the two stallions. “Well I would like to start from the beginning but me being born is not important... well you can just write down when I was born and then start actually taking notes from when my story actually begins.” Blaze smiled as he watched his amazing butler jot down his date of birth at a speed unseen by Blaze. What can't you do you old stallion, what can't you do.
“Alright, I guess it all started when I was ten.” The smoke around the ponies started to change shape and color and formed into a copy of what Blaze remembered. The butler stood up and walked out of the smoke and Blaze gave him a glare. It was unlike him to disobey orders. Rustling of an assortment of items assaulted Blazes ears. What are you doing old man?
Jenkins walked back into the smoke and handed Blaze a ring. It was one of the first things Blaze brought back to his home, after Jenkins of course. The ring of enhanced memories, or at least that what Blaze called it, would really help. “I see Jenkins, I really shouldn't doubt you.” Blaze slid on the ring and the smoke turned into a photo realistic representation of Blazes memories, almost as if they were both there. “Alright J., just watch the smoke and write down what you see.”
Author's Note
Redux of chapter 1 is up.
“I best start off with the beginning. Are you ready Jenkins? Here we go.” The smoke around the two stallions stirred and twisted into images of Blazes memory.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
The smoke grew into Blaze, but at a much younger age. His coat was a vibrant orange and his mane was yellow with orange tips that matched the rest of his coat. Wind was whipping through is mane, which caused it to look like flickering fire. Determination adorned his face as he overlooked the overgrown mouth of cave. The hills around the cave hid it from his view until now. A leather satchel hung at his side. His moment of silence was cut short by a shadow that completely over took him. He felt something placed on his his head, he turned around to meet his fathers gaze.
“Son, this is my hat. Your grandfather gave me this when I first when on a journey like this and now it is time to pass the torch on to the next in line. Protect it like you would a family member, Blaze.” Blazes father said as he walked passed his son and peered into the mouth of the cave. “I didn't hear much of this place before we arrived, but I found it pretty quickly actually. The men at the bar said it was a myth and didn't exist, some foals tail about cloaking or something. They claimed to search for days and find nothing. But really I guess you gotta know what to look for, ain't that right my boy?”
“Yeah, I guess you are much better than them at this.” Blaze said to his dad, a proud sparkling in his eyes.
“No son, I am not better than those other stallions. I am better than all stallions at this!” Blazes father took a boasting stance, staring off toward the sun. “Now lets get going. I don't want to be out here all day, the sun is almost unbearable. It should be nicer inside.”
Blaze trotted down the hill next to his father. His first adventure with his dad, his first adventure in general. His legs were shaking, what with all the possibilities that lie ahead. Blaze never had much of interest in selling anything he owned, or came to own. He didn't really think much of money in general. He spend most of his time reading, studying for days just like today. His father had been doing this his whole life, and always promised he would bring his son. That day had finally come, and more than anything Blaze wanted to prove his abilities. He had been studying all the ancient books his father had brought home. Learning how to read and speak the languages of the old and current world. His knowledge of cultures and its inhabitants would make him invaluable to his father, at least that's what he though.
“Blaze my boy. Today you and me will find out what all the local buzz is about this cave. I hope is something good. Something we can bring home to mom.” Patting Blaze on the head he reached into his side satchel and pulled out a wooden torch and a small flint box. He struck the flint, catching the torch aflame. “Son hold this torch for me. New guys always hold the torch. Its the rules.”
Blaze reluctantly took the torch with a sigh. “If you say so dad.”
His dad let out a chuckle, “Don't be so sad son, holding the torch means you are the most important person in the expedition. I mean, without you, I will be blind once we go inside.” He reached into his satchel, and pulled out a sheathed blade. “Now what did mom tell you about knifes?”
“She said that if I was to use one, it better not be on another pony.”
His father looked at him through squinted eyes. “Doesn't really sound like your mother.”
“Well you didn't let me finish dad. If I was to use one, it better not be on another pony, unless they really had it coming.”
His father burst out laughing. “There we go! That sound more like your mom.” He unsheathed the machete and began to hack away at the undergrowth. “Now, supply check. What did she pack you?”
Blaze took his satchel off, sliding it carefully past his new hat. He stabbed the torch into the ground next to him, and set the bag near it. He began to paw through the satchel. “A few bags of granola.” He said, placing the sealed bags on the ground.
“What kind of granola?” His father asked, still working at the vines and branches.
“Some are the kind with dried fruit and.... the others are just plain.”
“Well, I call the fruit ones.”
“Good, I don't really like fruit anyway. The plain stuff is mine.” Blaze continued to go through the leather bag. He listed of a few knifes, a few fire starting kits, multiple first aid kits, and a few other questionably useful items. His father finished cutting through the over grown entrance as Blaze completed the almost impossible task of refilling the bag with all the items his mother had packed inside.
“Looks like we are through to the entrance.” He looked at the repacked bag. “Wow, you actually fit all of that back inside? You must take after your mother quite a bit.”
Blaze did take after his mother, as she was the only one home with him. His father was usually away, doing what they were about to do now, but all over the world. “Yeah. Yeah I guess I do huh?” His father was a world renown spelunker. He went into places others would not dare go near, and come back every time. Usually with a memento or something else, which he let Blaze have before he would leave again.
“Speaking of your mother we should find her something nice while we are out. You have no idea how long it took me to convince her to let me bring you along.” He turned to opening he had cut out of the entrance. “Don't forget the torch. I doubt the lights will be on.”
As they took the first few steps into the cave, Blaze found his father was all to correct. It would be pitch black without the torch. The flickering fire left shadows dancing all around them. Every jagged stone and imperfection added a welcome member to the dance that was transpiring. Blaze couldn't take his eyes off of it. His joy was cut short when something tripped him, sending him staggering forward. His father threw him to the ground, following him to the cave floor. Several metal darts tanged against the stone wall, clattering to the ground. His hat falling to the ground where he had once stood, the torch landing nearby.
“What was that!” Blaze exclaimed, pushing his father off of him. “You scared the hell out of me!”
His father stood up, dusting himself off. “That was me protecting you.” He pointed the archaic darts that laid on the ground a few feet from them. Blaze stood silent, not having noticed the darts before. “I heard the mechanism click when you tripped the wire. Something I have heard many times before, usually the person who trips things like that don't live very long.”
Blaze hadn't taken his eyes off the darts since his father told him. He continued to talk, explain something, but Blaze couldn't focus on him. He couldn't focus on anything. The world around him was gone, just the darts on the ground. That was all that was real, all that mattered.
The middle aged pony laid his hoof on Blaze's shoulder, snapping him back into reality. “I promised your mother I would get you home safely.” He position Blaze's eyes even with his own. “You won't get hurt, not as long as I am here. Don't worry too much.” He let out a faint sigh. “If you would like to go we can. This life isn't for everyone. It can be a lot to take in.”
Blaze began to tear up, his father's reassuring gaze took hold of him. He fought the tears back, not wanting to cry in front of his idol. “No. I... I am your son. You are Flaime Keeper, and I am your son Blaze.” He forced a smile. “I am gonna be better than you at this in no time dad, just you watch.”
A wide smile over took his fathers face. “I told my old man the same thing.” He reached into his satchel, pulling out a small pocket watch. He pressed the button on the side, sending it flicking open. He held it up for Blaze to see. The picture inside was hard to make out, the unstable light of the torch not helping anything. Flaime grabbed the torch off the ground, holding it closer. The photo was a black and white shot of a young pony being given a hat by a middle aged stallion. “That is your grandpa, Sparck Keeper. He was an archeologist, really loved his job. He preferred the hoofs on approach whenever something was dug up. He is the reason I do what I do.” He picked up Blaze's hat off the ground, and handed it to him. “This is the same hat that is in that picture.” He shut the pocket watch, and put it back in his bag. “Its been through a lot, and a few repairs. But it goes to show how strong our family is. How a bit of resolve can go a long way. So what do you say? Should we continue?”
Blaze adorned the hat, and snatched the torch from his father. “Which way dad?”
Flaime let out a booming laugh that echoed throughout the cave and back. “Your guess is as good as mine son. There is a fork in the path ahead.” Blaze felt a little embarrassed for not noticing the fork. But in his defense he was captivated by the shadows, and almost killed. “Which way do you think we should go? Just follow your gut.” Blaze pointed to the path on the right. “Good choice. I think that way is as good as any.”
The path's were identical in look. Neither side looking particularly good, but nothing to bad was obvious. So the two ponies set off down the stone pathway. Flaime stopping his son from time to time to point out some things to his son. He pointed to rotted tripwires, sunken pressure plates, and chiseled sections of walls. According to Flaime, the cave was dug by hoof. Using older, unsophisticated tools. There were signs of inaccurate pickaxe swings. No major stalactites or stalagmites had formed, showing the cave is old, but not too old. Just old enough for most of the traps set by the creators to have rotted out and broken.
Their hoofs echoed off the walls with each step, adding an eerie feeling to fire lit area. As ahead of them came into view, were they had been trailed off back into the darkness that so eagerly waited. A few minuets passed with no complaints. Nearing an hour Blaze became fatigued, his young and untrained legs feeling a slight burn with every step. Not wanting to disrespect his father, he pushed forward, keeping his thoughts to himself.
“Feeling the burn yet son?” Flaime asked, not breaking pace. “I know its seems like we have been walking forever, but nothing goes on forever. We will find the end eventually.”
Blaze quietly sighed. He had been carrying the torch the entire time, and it was starting to get a bit heavy. “No dad. I'm fine. Just enjoying the ambiance.” Which wasn't a complete lie. He liked the solitude and time to think the cave had supplied. It was dark and quiet, easy to space out. But every time he would begin to trail off into his mind, his father would stop him, showing how another step could have been his head on the ground.
“Just keep your wits about you. I was never a good medic, and I don't want to carry you out of here.” Flaime jested. “Hungry?”
Blaze was hungry. Very hungry. They didn't have breakfast before they left in the early morning. Something about being full in the early morning attracts predators or something. It was probably just his dad being impatient as usual. “Yeah, I am hungry. Let's take a break.” His father stopped dead in his tracks and embraced the ground with his backside. Blaze followed suit, stabbing the torch into the dirt beside him. He opened his back, squinting at the words his mother had scribbled on the bags of granola. “Here dad, dried fruit mix.”
His father took the granola with gusto and began to devour the contents. Blaze grabbed his bag of plain, which wasn't actually just plain oats. It has a sweet cinnamon coating his mother had made herself. The food met Blaze's tongue with great pleasure, and soon he too was eating like a deranged animal. The food quickly disappeared and the two ponies sat with full stomachs. Flaime let out a belch that echoed throughout the cave. Blaze tried to follow suit but fell short, causing his father to let out a laugh.
After a short while of sitting and resting Blaze stood up. “I have to pee.” He said, stretching his legs. “I will be back.” His father yelled after him to be careful. He sighed, getting sick of hearing the same thing every time he tried to move. After a quick scope of the cave wall he saw a small branching path. It looked like whoever built the cave system, decided not to continue in this direction after a very short dig. Blaze trotted over to the far wall and relieved himself readily. As he went he studied the wall in front of him to pass the time. To his surprise there was etching on the wall. A hieroglyphic like language. He finished up with his business he looked closer at what the wall had written on it. He had seen the language before in one of his fathers books.
“The.... The....” He couldn't see well with distant flickering light, so he leaned closer. “I wish to lay my own path before me. Influence my fate....” Blaze struggled on the last bit. It was name. As he uttered it out the wall burst into a glorious light. Luminescent tendrils grabbed Blaze. He struggled and screamed, but they already had him firmly in their grasp. “DAD!”
Flaime shot up from the ground and bolted toward the light. He drew his knife and lunged at the tendrils without question. He stabbed at them, fighting desperately for his son. He made contact with one, but it seemed infective as another shot from the wall, slamming his father back to the other side of the cave. The tendrils began their retreat to the wall, dragging Blaze with them. “DAD HELP!” Flaime struggled to his feet, a sharp pain shot through his body as he clasped his ribs and fell to the ground. “BLAZE NO!”
His fathers screams reached his ears as light engulfed him. The wall went dim again, the etching on the wall disappeared with the light. Flaime laid weeping on the ground, still huddled in pain.
Blaze awoke in a foreign section of the cave. At least it looked kind of like the cave system he was in. The walls were beautifully crafted, artistic symbols inscribed onto them. Many gold pillars held the cave ceiling up. A thick black, smoke like fog kept the ground below him almost completely hidden. It smelled damp like before, the sound of gentle running water could be heard somewhere in the fog. He took a few steps forward, peaking around a large pillar. A wonderful black stone alter laid a few yards away. A decaying, rusty blade lay buried partially in the stone. The handle pointing straight into the air.
Blaze uneasily trotted to the alter. Doing his best to guess how the cave floor would twist and contort under the smog. As he approached the alter, he felt breath on his neck. He whipped around to find the air behind him as empty as it had always been. After a gulp of fresh air he reached the alter. His eyes laid quickly onto the blade.
It didn't looked aged in the slightest. It was sharpened to absolute perfection. A gold inlay across the dull edge seemed to sparkle in the dim room. Crude symbols had been scratched into the blade. They were the same symbols that had been grafted on to the wall. “Empty.” Blaze translated with ease. He reached his hoof up and grabbed the blade by the handle. As he unsheathed the blade, it revealed itself to much like a machete. Instead of a more blunt, rounded end, it was sharpened to a point.
“Yo.”
Blaze's eyes shot up from the blade. A smokey figure was laying on top the alter. His eyes were a piercing red which seemed to be suspended in the figures flowing shadowy body. “I said yo!” The figure grinned. His sharp, pearl white teeth shining out of the darkness of his body. “Gonna just stand there?”
Blaze was stunned by the appearance of this... thing. Beyond the eyes and teeth, he adorned a pair of horns. They glowed like fire in the darkness, casting rays of light on Blaze's face. “H-Hi?” Blaze squeezed out.
“So you can talk. Imagine that.” The head of the shadow rose up, taking full shape as humanoid creature. It dangled its smoke like legs over the side of the alter. “I also imagine you find that blade quite appealing? Right?” The grin returning, its wide mouth leaving no tooth uncovered.
“Y-yeah. Quite a bit actually. Is it... yours?” Blaze asked, clutching the sword tight in his hoof.
“Maybe. It could be yours.”
“What?”
“Yes. It could be yours.” The figure hopped off of the alter and met Blaze at eye level. “Its easy.”
“Are you... giving it to me?”
“Sure.” The figure leaned closer. “But not for free.” It lifted its arm and reached for the sword. As its hand touched Blaze's hoof, it sent a wave of cold shooting though his leg. He pulled away instantly and slammed his eyes shut. The blade clattered to the ground as he rubbed his freezing leg. He looked back up and the figure was gone. He looked around and there was no sign of its existence. He hesitantly reached for the blade once more. As his hoof made contact with weapon a chill ran down his spine.
“You should be more careful with others property.” The figured chuckled.
Blaze took the blade in full grasp again. “S-sorry. You startled me is all.”
“If it was yours, you wouldn't have to worry about breaking my knife.” It continued chuckling.
“Well... what did you want for it?” Blaze asked, the gold seemingly getting brighter and more alluring as he held it.
“Nothing special. Just your autograph”
Blaze scoffed. “You have the wrong stallion. Your thinking of my father. We look similar I know, but he is the professional.” Blaze looked to the ground. “I am the bumbling idiot he has been saving all day.”
The figure's smile dropped. Its cold touch running along Blaze's cheek. “Does it make you feel... useless? Your inability to live up to what your father wants you to be?”
“I want to make him proud. But I wasn't built for this. I was always a better study. Physical activity was never my strong suit. When he would be home, he would want to go outside. To run and play sports or go with him on a hike.” Blaze looked down at his legs. “But I always get tired. He seems to go on forever, boundless energy. He is a quick thinker. He could always do things I could never dream of doing myself.”
The figure floated off of the ground and hovered over Blaze. “What if I could help you? Make you... better.” Blaze looked up in confusion. “I can give you most anything you desire. Just say what you need, and I can make it happen.”
Blaze frowned. “Yeah right.”
The figure hovered back to the alter. “It is true. I am... special. I can give power to the powerless. Food to the hungry. Warmth to the cold.”
“And what does that cost? And hoof and a leg?”
It giggled. “Nothing that severe. Just you signature.”
Blaze thought for second. “Just my signature... then you will answer my wish?”
“More or less.”
Another few seconds passed. Blaze stared at the blade he held in his hoof. “Can I have this too? I bet my dad would like it.”
The figure grinned wide. “Of course. It can be a package deal.”
A few more seconds passed by. Blaze thought about this things proposal. What was the worst that could happen? He has his name in ink? “I... I will do it. Do you have a pen?”
The figure hissed loudly. Its eyes beamed fury, its mouth wide open. It dashed at Blaze with pure aggression. Blaze threw up his legs, pressed his eyes shut, and prepared for the worst. But it never hit. When he opened his eyes his front leg was dripping blood and the blade laid on the ground in front of him. “I... I must have cut myself.” He gasped shakily. He looked at the weapon as the ever present smoke rolled over it. Its blade adorned Blaze's blood well. It seemed to flow down a groove in the side and fill the 'empty' that had been carved into it.
He looked over his fresh cut. It was a bit dim to get a perfect look but he could see it wasn't life threatening. Maybe some stitches if needed. The knife was definitely as sharp as it looked. He didn't feel the initial incision, but he definitely felt the burn of wound now. He slowed reached for the knife again. He gingerly picked it up, and looked quickly toward the alter. The figure had reappeared like before, and it sat calmly on the alter. “What was that!”
“You asked if I had a pen.”
“So you attack me!”
The figure pointed to the newly bloodied weapon. “Not quite. Just giving your pen some ink. Now come, seal the deal.” It floated off of the alter and pointed to the slot were the knife had been before Blaze arrived. “Just sign on the dotted line.”
The stallion stood up and walked to the alter. He stared at it for a while. It was entrancing. Like staring at the night sky. Finely polished golden inlay lite up the face of the alter, a deep contrast to its soulless black stone. “So... put the knife back? You said this was a package deal.”
The figure landed on the opposite side of the alter and laid its elbows upon it, its hands holding up its grinning head. “It is. I just need the signature. Now please, sign.”
Blaze slowly raised his hoof up, looking again at the knife he was holding. It just seemed to become more and more beautiful as he looked at it. It called out to him. Maybe the figure wasn't lying. Maybe it really did have powers. Maybe this is just a dream. Blaze didn't clear his mind, he let it run wild. Without much thought put into the motion, or much of anything, he positioned the knife above the hole. The figure laughed hysterically as he pushed Blaze's hoof down, plunging the blade into the alter.
The figure took a few steps back, its face still plastered with a smile. “Contract complete. I can't wait to taste you mortal. I bet your delicious.” As it laughed its horns and teeth seemed to disintegrate into dust, quickly leaving the figure with no feature's but its piercing red eyes.
Blaze quickly stepped back from the alter. Pulsating pain shot through his body, which brought him to his knees. He looked up at the figure, watching its features dissipate. His forehead felt like he was being stabbed through the skull. As he put his hoofs up to cradle his writhing head his mouth burst into atrocious misery. He let out a blood curdling scream and fell to his flank, struggling to keep consciousness. The pain all over his body growing worse and worse.
The figure floated over him and whispered into his ear. “I will hold up my end of the bargain. Don't waste your gift.” Blaze opened his mouth to speak but his eyes slide shut and his world disappeared as he began to fall unconscious the figure spoke once more. “I will be watching you mortal. Don't disappoint me...” Blaze succumbed to the pain and passed out.
Author's Note
I have completely redone this chapter. From first to last word I think. Core concept is the same, but I think this is miles ahead of what I had written before. So please enjoy. I plan on redoing all the chapters up to this point. So please, enjoy or re-enjoy. Leave some feedback or whatnot. I like to know how I am doing or how I could improve.
