Dusty

Miraculous America

Sensing Talon’s presence reclining beside her, Serpentine shifted her weight ever so slightly broken glass crunching beneath her. A mixture of confusion and contentment clouded her judgment at Talon’s words, and she was worried he might see the inappropriately timed smile growing on her face. Try as she might Serpentine could not think straight in her present state of being. The fear of total darkness, combined with happiness and Talon’s concern for her wellbeing and the seriousness of their quandary all muddled by the toxic gas left her mind more scrambled then the eggs she ate for breakfast. The eagle-hero’s comments about her being cute weren’t helping either. Furrowing her brow Serpentine tried her best to force these conflicting thoughts and feelings from herself in order to focus. Talon was right about the baristriss’ akuma; with the only three combat fit heroes having already utilized their max abilities and with their Miraculous’ clocks ticking, discovering and destroying the villainous barista’s weapon remained a top priority. Forced into a retreat the heroes could be picked off one by one as their Miraculous’ failed, and their suits evaporated like dust on the wind. Shivering at this bleak prospect Serpentine’s foolish grin vanished in an instant and she became serious, running over the many possibilities aloud.

“Any number of things really, especially here at the Lounge. Though if I had to venture a guess I imagine it would be the same as the last guy, his whip was where the Akuma was hidden right.” Serpentine reasoned, blinking rapidly and jerking her head from side to side. The gas made her feel lightheaded, as if she was exhausted and would like nothing more than to lay down and fall sleep. She resisted the urge through the spasmodic movements, using Talon’s shoulder to push herself onto her unsteady feet. “The Baristriss is using spray bottles right, they explode but she always seems to have more… It disobeys so many laws of physics, but so do these suits and powers… She must have a main one that she can use to summon all the others. If we can disarm her she won’t be able to throw any more gas, and we’ll be able to purify her Akuma!”

At that moment the ferocious battle between Furrita and Baristriss heated up, with the heroine alone and in trouble of being overwhelmed as yet another gas bomb was primed and ready to throw. Serpentine cast about in mental desperation for something, anything that might change the tide of battle. Underfoot the glass crunched loudly into even smaller pieces. The remains of a shattered window, destroyed by Usagi’s slingshot minutes before. “Usagi!” Serpentine gasped in remembrance, raising her voice to the point where the rabbit hero might hear her. “Usagi, disarm the Baristriss with your slingshot!” Turning to Talon, or to where she thought Talon was Serpentine spoke in a rapid, quiet tone. “You’ll have to leave me here. Once Usagi knocks the Baristriss’ Akuma away you’ve got to snatch it, yell when you do and I’ll cast an illusion around you and Furrita. It’ll keep you both covered until you can purify it. Make sure to hold your breath and close your eyes if a grenade goes off, and Talon… Please be careful.”

Miraculous America

Yes indeed. Because when your eyes aren't able to deceive you, the other senses are very keen.

Oh BTW, I wanted to make this clear here in the OOC since I'm not portraying it very well IC, Serpentine wasn't blinded by the gas, she was blinded by the explosion to the face, the gas only caused a stinging sensation and watering, unless @Polaris North you want to make blinding a property of the gas.

Miraculous America

Strong hands seized ahold of Serpentine wrenching her away from the no-man’s land in the center of the café. A lump caught in her throat, Serpentine struggled against this unknown aggressor, her feet and fists connecting indiscriminately with any chairs or tables or decorations that came within range, with few blows even striking her assailant. The gas before had sapped her strength, and despite desperate efforts the mysterious person succeeded in dragging her into the corner. The sound of forming stone and a familiar voice broke through the inhibiting darkness that surrounded Serpentine, calming her frantic heart.

“Ed-?“ No, not Eddie. The school boy she’d spoken to earlier that morning wouldn’t be here battling supervillains and forming a defensive wall to help protect her. Reaching out Serpentine felt the wing and shoulder of Talon’s suit, a mixture of relief and guilt swamping her overwhelmed senses. “I’m sorry for hitting you Talon!” She gasped, snatching her hand away and staring around into the permanent blackness that surrounded her like a veil. A shiver of fear ran down her spine. Was her condition permanent? Would it wear off in time, or when Barristris was defeated? Serpentine was truly helpless without the use of her vision, and for the first time felt a serious appreciation for something she usually took for granted.

“I can’t see. Whatever’s in that gas blinded me, and I don’t feel so good. Almost, dizzy.” The snake heroine sank back, slumping against the wall her hands pressed tight against her face. She dearly wished should could rip off the mask and pour cool water onto her throbbing eyes, or at least somehow ease the pain. She could still smell the sickly sweet scent of the gas, clogging her nostrils and disorienting her mind, and hear the blast from the can that exploded right in front of her face. Nearby the sounds of battle echoed throughout the café, indicating Furrita’s attempts at defeating the Barristris alone. “You should go help her,” Serpentine urged Talon, her face directed in the wrong way. “I’ll be fine here, just let me know of Rouge-Bat shows up.” She touched the camera attached at her hip, trying to give her comrade a brave smile to show she'd be okay. Unbeknownst to her the device had been shattered from her tumble, the screen broken into a million pieces by the full weight of her body landing on top of it.

Hidden In The Forest (Closed)

Everyone feel free to create and explore lore and history to our crew's friendships, how they started, how long they've known each other and all that.

If you see something you'd like changed just let the poster know through a tag.

I'm gonna take a loose approach in regards to power playing and y'all controlling small parts of each other's characters, especially their history, seeing as we shouldn't be fighting each other to much... hopefully Either way I trust y'all to be mature with it.

Also, if you haven't joined the discord, please consider it. I think the link is no good, but I'll post another one.... here

Hidden In The Forest (Closed)

Being alone never really bothered Sam. He appreciated the feeling of freedom he gained in these moments, the treat to be himself without watchful eyes prying into his back and business. He loved his mom, dearly, but her overbearing anxiety choked the life out of everything he did. He was glad she’d left without too much struggle and appreciated her all the more for it. Gazing out over the still waters of Lake Superior he let out a content sigh, a cheerful smile playing at the corners of his lips. Today would be a good day, and the start of a greater week; he just knew it.

For a long while Sam relaxed, enjoying the view and his surroundings for their simplicity, allowing time and worries to fade away like the water washing away the sand. Still, he was always the industrious one, and despite the enjoyment he garnered from doing nothing he turned his mind towards accomplishing a goal. Namely, setting up camp. Wandering about the immediate area Sam found a number of large stones which he carried to the center of a flat shady spot, overlooking the water. Haphazardly tossing them to the grass he left them to rest, knowing they could be easily rearranged into a proper fire pit later. He was half way through collecting enough rocks when Jake’s eager bark alerted him to the car trundling down the dirt path. Recognizing the car Sam dropped the stone he was carrying, his eyes lighting up happily. He waved, jogging the short distance over to where his best friend and his brother, and younger sister were stepping from the car. Sam really liked Atlas and was thrilled he’d been allowed to come. They’d been friends for a lot longer than the rest of their little posse, being of a closer age and personality than the others. The younger teen occasionally weirded Sam out, however his sarcastic wit and musical talent made up for the bouts of sporadic turbulence that rocked their friendship. Sam’s own knack for homework and testing was probably what kept Atlas afloat in academic pursuits over the six years they’d known each other.

“Nah, not too long At. You probably saw my mom leaving when you drove up.” Sam reassured Atlas, giving him a fist bump in greeting, and waving to the excitable Hailey. “I’m just glad you made - that I made it too.” He leaned in close, lowering his voice ever so slightly. “I was worried my mom wouldn’t leave at all there for a minute.”

Seeing Cameron and Hailey off Sam was about to explain his plans for setting up the campsite when a fancy car pulled up, its wide tires crunching the gravel underneath with its graceful display of engineering. “Vera’s here.” He laughed, giving yet another wave. “I’m kinda surprised she came at all y’know. She didn’t exactly sound thrilled at first, but she came around. Oh, and she brought Gia. Hey Gia, hey Vera!”

His cheerful voice was soon drowned out by the roar of another car engine as his fourth friend rolled in, pulling a maneuver with his vehicle that Sam was pretty sure would’ve gotten him grounded for life. Especially considering he only had a learners permit and if he drove, it was with his parents, in their car. Sam supposed that was just the kind of guy Duncan was. The tall, energetic teen seemed a born rebel, willing to defy the general rules of higher society that Sam had been so elegantly groomed for. He even smoked; and it was a wonder that Sam was allowed to hang out with him, and even more so that Duncan would be willing to spend time with the likes of him.

“Hi Dunk,” he chuckled, turning a bit scarlet at his friends comments about his mother. Sam couldn’t help it, he’d been horribly embarrassed by his overprotective mother so many times he wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t some truth to The Dunk’s conspiracies. He was glad they were just harmless quips and not actual teasing. He endured enough of that at school. Jake the chocolate lab ran up at this point, making sure to sniff everyone’s shoes as the final member to their group finally arrived, astride his motorcycle. The steel horse rumbled like a feral beast being unleashed as it glided to a stop beside Duncan’s ride.

Sam thought he might turn green with envy. He never failed to get that green-eyed sense of I gotta have it every time he watched Robert riding his motorcycle, as any young adventurous boy would feel. Of all the things his mom would never let him even touch, a motorcycle was right at the top of that list right behind drugs and her morning coffee. Feeling a little rebellious suddenly Sam made a mental note to see if Robert would let him take it for a quick spin later, just around the campsite.

“How’s it going Rob.” He said greeting his final friend.

“Looks like everyone made it alive.” He joked once Vincent and the luxury car vanished into the forest leaving them perfectly alone. “I was just telling Atlas, I started collecting stone for a fire pit. If you guys help out we can get the two tents up, and finish the pit and we can go-“ He was cut off by the sound of two gunshots being fired in quick succession. The concussive blasts were a good distance away, to the trained ear they sounded at least three or even four miles off. But the forests were strange, and sound could be carried far and wide even through the thickest patches of trees. The strangest part was how fast they’d been set off, one after the other almost so it sounded like one, but was distinctly two. Not like a hunter’s careful trigger pulls at all. “Uh, anyway.” Sammy continued shaking off the strange feeling in his heart, as if his blood had suddenly frozen and became sluggish. He didn’t understand it, he heard bullets and gun shots quite often, so why would his body react in such a way? Deciding he was being silly Samuel refrained from mentioning his feelings to his friends, instead regaining his train of thought. “Once we- Um – Once we set up both tents and build the fire pit we can go down to the docks and start fishing, just as the trout start jumping for their evening meal, if um, if you guys want to?”

Hidden In The Forest (Closed)

@CaptainSully Sorry to do this to you my friend, but its 1994, no handy dandy cellphones to get our crew out of trouble. Robert can be listening to music out of an... MP3 Player, I think those were early 90s.

Long ago, in a kingdom far far away. (Fantasy appcalypse, more details to come.)

Brother Alfwin

Theme

Male

Human

Fourteen

Standing at a slight meter and a half tall, Alfwin is on the smaller side, thin and with a gaunt face and stick like arms. His hair is a dark brown, cropped evenly across his head, with only the sides allowed to grow out. He dons the simple brown habit of the order's monks, with a cloth belt around his waist and sandals upon his feet. Altogether his pale features and slight frame gives him a frail appearance, as if a strong breeze would be able to push him over.







*Pious*Trusting*Optimistic* - *Meek*Cloistered*Rash*

*Despair*

A cheery and optimistic soul, Alfwin is a high spirited young fellow, apt to be lost in his own little world rather than fixated on the present. When and if he is drawn down from the heavens in order to focus on a necessary task he proves to be an excellent student, quick to learn and eager to experiment and try new things. The only challenge being to successfully direct his energies towards more refined obligation. Alfwin’s upbringing in the order fashioned him to be a pious child, trusting greatly in the lonely goddess and her teachings. His power after all is drawn from her. The lonely goddess instructs her faithful to remain charitable and passive, diplomatic and understanding in all their endeavors and trials. Alfwin embodies this attitude to an extent. He is meek in the face of true violence, having never even seen a proper fight, though he can be sharp of tongue and wit when allowance for nonphysical self-defense is acceptable; never in earshot of the brothers of course. Alfwin abhors it when folk are in poor spirits, doing almost everything in his power to cheer them up again. He draws a great deal of joy from people being happy, and can be infected quite easily by the negativity that poor attitudes bring with them. He is terrified of the despair death brings with it, and seeks to counter his feelings of hopelessness by becoming overly optimistic, encouraging the impossible to be within reach, just to see a smile on a dying man’s face.







Upon the holy hill, then untouched by the black curse that swept the lands, rested a serene monastery of the lonely goddess so pure. Here her monks and clerics sang their hymns and chants, toiled in their fields, and inscribed in their great tomes in peace and without want. Healers and scholars all, they were a charitable community, content to worship their goddess and treat those who requested her blessing. Without question nor demand they fed the hungry, healed the broken, sheltered the weary, and welcomed the unwanted stranger into the warmth of their home. For centuries it had been this way, ever since the lonely goddess first taught her faithful to create remedies for the ill of body and spirit, and by her powerful magic perform miracles of healing. For this reason the monastery saw many needy pass through its gates seeking healing for the sick and dying, pleading that the monks aid them in their suffering. No one but the violent and evil was refused at their gates, and even though the monks would give everything they had to those who asked, they always seemed to have just enough. So they worshiped, and healed, and lived happily.

One day a young foreign lord, a man of wealth and power arrived at their gates, and though the monks, with their trained eyes looked they could see no ailment nor curse upon him other than fear and crippling grief. Once admitted he cast himself upon the floor before the Abbot’s feet, his handsome face marred by tears and ash, his feet and head bare, and his clothes torn by his own hands. There he begged the Abbot ride with him at once back to his home, where his young wife lay stricken by a terrible infection with their first child, yet unborn. She remained too ill to travel, and by his physician’s mournful estimate lay close to death's door. The Abbot felt pity for the young lord, and though he wished dearly to help he could not abandon his beloved monastery to accompany him. He was an elderly man after all, frail and of weak health himself, unable to go galloping across the world at great speeds without serious risk. Instead he suggested the service of a youthful novice to attend the lord’s wife in his place. The lord implored of the Abbot to supply his services directly, promising to dedicate his child to their order, if only he would save their lives. He trusted only the most powerful of the order, and when he looked upon the novice the Abbot offered, he felt his wife would surely perish. Moved by his devotion to his loved one the Abbot placed his hand upon the man’s ashen brow, and swore upon the lonely goddess herself, that no blessing, nor power would be bestowed by him, that wouldn’t be gifted to another. Naught else but the prayers to the lonely goddess, and great hope and acceptance could restore the health to one so stricken.

Dejected the man departed the monastery to return to his homelands, wracked by misery and hopelessness. His new companion seemed unsure of himself, and could make no promises of his expertise in healing unrecognizable ailments by magic or otherwise. Nevertheless they pressed on for three days until they arrived at his estate, to the welcome of mournful song and black banners draped across the walls. Wailing the lord prepared to rush to his wife’s bedside when the novice grasped him by the shoulder, hushing him. “Fear not,” he cried, “For I know she is not dead, but sleeping. Your servants have been fooled.” The lord was unconvinced and struck the novice upon the cheek, crying out in anger that he was a fool and a worshiper of a false god. Humbled the novice walked behind in silence as they were escorted into the wife’s chambers. Already her face was veiled, and pale as in death. And yet upon seeing her the novice cried out again, exclaiming joyously, “See, did I not say it was so? Praise be to the lonely goddess; awake her.” Thus declared the novice offered a prayer in thanks and stepped forward, lifting the veil and casting an ethereal light over the woman, shocking all present. In a moment the women’s face cleared, her disease healed. The lord fell to his knees and praised the lonely goddess, and the novice whose magic brought back his beloved from the very brink of death.

For several months after the novice returned to his monastery the monks heard nothing from the lord again. They went about their lives as usual until the sound of hooves announced the arrival of a great entourage. There the lord sat, high upon his proud horse, beside him his wife now in full health and in her arms a tiny bundle. Descending from his place of power the lord sank to his knees, taking the bundle from his wife and laying it down at the Abbot’s feet, giving praise to the lonely goddess and dedicating his firstborn to her service, a promise at last upheld.

Little Brother Alfwin, as the baby became known was at once indoctrinated into the order’s ways. Learning their methods, their hymns, and their prayers and growing up under their care and guidance. His parents traveled often to come visit, and were pleased with his education and upbringing, eager to see their child learn the ways of healing and restoration they now held so sacrosanct. Although he was something of a trouble maker, Alfwin still made a good novice, studious and intelligent and with promising magical talent. His love of fun, and his high energy made him well liked throughout the monastery, and the brothers would often find him sitting in the infirmary telling jokes and funny stories to the sick and injured, trying to raise their broken spirits.

Alfwin spent much of his time at his studies, memorizing the vast array of plants and oils that could be brewed into different healing drafts. Scribbling them down again, and again into great tomes in order to drill the information into his head. Besides his writing and reading Alfwin was taught the chants of the lonely goddess, songs infused with powerful words that mend the unamendable, all while praising her glory and her great mercy. Every so often Alfwin would lose interest, and become restless, pulling pranks or speaking crassly as a child might. Should he go too far in his personal amusement, he would be humbled and chastised by the brothers, set to sweeping out the library or some other such extracurricular chore. To avoid these instances, when Alfwin he felt fit to burst from youthful energy and boredom the monks would allow him to take their donkey to buy good from the small hamlets dotting the countryside, and play with the children there for a day or so before he would have to return to his education.

Life seemed good to Alfwin, and though it seemed there were its ups and downs he appreciated his upbringing and life, right up to the moment when everything changed. Alfwin wasn't quite sure when it happened, or even where it started. He was on the road, riding swiftly to Lesser Hamenshire to purchase a new spade for brother Cal when the sign of smoke above the trees alerted him to trouble on the horizon. Everything seemed to spiral into disaster from that moment on. His arrival into Lesser Hamenshire revealed the corpses and burned dwellings which left a hole in young Alfwin's heart. He knew most of these people well, and to see their lives having been violently wrested away by some unknown evil shocked him to his core. Turning about he made great haste back towards the monastery, wishing to warn the Abbot of a terrible army ravaging the land, until he saw upon the hill, the smoke and flame rising from his home.

It seemed to Alfwin as if a great weight rested in the pit of his stomach, and he knew, that no brother remained alive. The family he'd come to love were gone, and whatever had taken them did so without mercy nor consideration to those who'd never done harm in their lives.

The sight of figures coming from the hill, rapidly approaching broke Alfwin from his grief. In an instant he knew those few were not brothers from the order, but some race of orc, uncommon creatures here. Abandoning his donkey Alfwin fled into the local woodland, hiding amongst the shrubbery. Perhaps fate itself guided his feet, or some other force of nature set him on his true path. But somehow Alfwin found himself wandering into an ancient legend, even the order's once great library knew little about.








Medical Knowledge

Not all the monks’ teachings are that of magic and worship. They are proficient healers in their own right, knowing how to create and use a vast array of medicines, healing potions, salves, and poultices. In fact for a healer to be skilled in the realm of medical arcane he must know how the body of his patient operates in detail. Alfwin was given these lessons first, as all the order’s brother are, and was required to learn the art of medicine before even starting his training in magic.

Restoration

Alfwin was just beginning to acquire knowledge on how to use his magical talents to their fullest potential. He knows the words of the songs, which contain the magical words quite well at this point, and can identify the cause and cure of ailments, however he can only slightly tap into his abilities. Healing bruises and cuts, or clearing colds are all well and good, but further intensive studying would be required for him to fully master and control the restorative magic at his fingertips.

Scribe

From the moment he could be taught to hold a pen, and scribble his letters Alfwin has been instructed to write almost constantly. Even at fourteen his script is perfect, and his capacity to understand many written languages and runes are masterful. He even keeps a journal within which he writes any and all useful information.

Agriculture

The order always grew their own food, or hunted it in the local forests, being largely independent of the nearby hamlets. Many of the professional botanists within their ranks had developed a branch of magic entirely devoted to increasing the bounty of their labors. Alfwin never learned these techniques, being far to young, however like all the brothers he was required to toil in the fields on the regular, familiarizing himself with the concepts of agriculture and farming.

Trade

Perhaps the least refined of Alfwin's skills is that in trade and bartering. Due to his frequent forays into the local towns, under orders to purchase the occasional item he has developed a knack for haggling that most of his order does not possess.

Quarterstaff

The order does not teach its novices to fight, even with the sturdy walking staves all its members own. However anyone with a lick of sense can swing the staff to drive away an rabid dog or menace a ruffian. Alfwin of course hasn't the build to menace even a stray cat, but he carries his staff anyway as instructed.

Hidden In The Forest (Closed)

@Vertigo Well, he fits in nicely with our little group of misfits. And although I can't say much on his survival, I can guarantee you his new car isn't going to make it.

Intergalactic Space Adventurers- [ISA]

The sheriff hesitated for only the briefest of moments before he made his decision. “Tell ya th’ truth, I’m thinking I’ll stay aboard an’ keep blastin’ those cannons. I ain’t th’ sneaky type, not my style, so I wouldn’ be ‘elping you nor Emmett none, an’ I ain’t a looter. Wot I’m good at is shootin’ an’ brawling, so ya c’n count on me to ensure none of em scampin’ two-faced larva-bait pirates come aboard an’ take over while yer off gallivanting through th’ corsair’s halls. I’ll remain here, hold th’ fort down, create a perimeter, an’ perform operation control, y’know police shit.” Jean tipped his hat to the Ursa, just as the final shielding crumpled away.

“Best of luck to ya Miz Cooper, an’ if y’all get in a spot of trouble just holler for reinforcements. I’ll come storm th’ place.”

---

Chaos reigned on the pirate bridge as numerous laser volleys tore through the oversized fowl that now dominated the ship’s prow. One of the blasts got lucky, hitting one of camouflaged cameras creating a one-legged giant chicken preforming its name-sake dance in outer space. It was quite traumatizing for some of the more avian races amongst the crew, one of which fainted dead away. Though, perhaps that might’ve been due to Nafaerio’s metallic fist slamming into anyone nearby in an attempt to regain order throughout the startled crew. His dominating voice rose loud over the ensemble of shrieking and squawking and gurgling and he stood tall atop the edge back rest of his durasteel throne, his massive hand clutching the throat of the unconscious avian pirate he’d knocked out.

“Quiet, quiet th’ lot of ye! Silence I say, tis nothing more than a hologram, see yer shots go straight through. Be quiet before I flay ye all wit’ th’ cat-O-nine-tails ye gibbering, pathetic pack O’ curdled swine!” It took some time before the crew calmed to the point where Nafaerio could make sense of the situation, behind him the massive bird continued doing a very offensive chicken dance, one of its legs still missing. “Targeting, where be th’ little smuggler craft? Did they try’n jump to hyperspace?”

“Er, Cap’n, yer holding th’ poor chap by th’ throat.”

Nafaerio glanced down at the strangled crew member he was holding, releasing a growl of annoyance as he tossed the corpse away. “Hell be damned, one O’ ye scabs who knows how to operate his station scurry up here and do a fucking scan!”

“Aye, aye Cap’n.” A little weasely creature with yellow fur and absurd bulbous eyes scurried up and pressed a few buttons on the command board. After a few seconds of silence he scratched his head, looking nervous. “Eh, they be right below our hull-line Cap’n, off our aft.”

“What in th’ name of Zagggith are they doin’ there?”

“Boardin’ Cap’n…”

For a moment Nafaerio looked stunned, unable to fully grasp the Targeting’s words. He slumped back into his throne, stroking his chin, one eye locked on the dancing chicken as if interpreting its dance to be more meaningful than it was. “Tricky… Tricky little fish.” He murmured, ignoring his stunned crew who sat about, clutching their barbaric weaponry awaiting their despot’s orders. Curling one of his dreads around a cybernetic finger Nafaerio stood, turning on a heel and marching from the bridge. “Targeting, I don’ care wot yer name is, you’re in charge. Set up a defense an’ try to capture th’ enemy ship, and set guards to protect my bridge.”

The little yellow creature looked thrilled, his small chest puffed out as he stood a little straighter, gloating over his once peers. “Aye Cap’n, at once Cap’n, won’t fail ye Cap’n. Say… Where ye off to Cap’n?”

“Engineering.” Nafaerio snapped, before vanishing out the door.

A large number of pirates patroled in groups of three to five, prowling about the cruiser’s halls, guns at the ready. Another force numbering twenty and three rushed immediately to the rear of the ship, intent on boarding and capturing the Ranger. Meanwhile the cruiser’s main crew, about ten in total along with another eight guards protected the bridge, weapons bristling from every hand, tentacle, and claw. They maintained the anti-slip-space field, and kept the cruiser’s weapons ready to fire should the Ranger attempt an escape.
Nafaerio was nowhere to be seen…

Long ago, in a kingdom far far away. (Fantasy appcalypse, more details to come.)

I'm interested in joining this, and I already have a Cleric healer character that I've been wanting to use. A few tweaks and he'd it right into the world you have set up here.