Voltus_Ventus

Lets Play in Elysia - A Shwah 1x1 or Group Interest Check

I'm always up for world building, If you need anything hit me up. @ShwiggityShwah

Lets Play in Elysia - A Shwah 1x1 or Group Interest Check

I quite like the marauders idea, it definitely has potential. But whether or not they are an established crew, or assembled by a contractor for their skills could be debated?

Lets Play in Elysia - A Shwah 1x1 or Group Interest Check

*Sniffs air inquisitively* What is this I smell, a Roleplay set in Elysia? Tell me, when was I to be informed of this?

Only joking, but I'd love to take part.

The Fading Light of V'landriel (Closed for Soft Reboot)

I was a young man when I first met the Naerzo Vyalviur, both kings of a sort, both young in a way. The difference, however, was that I was terrified, and he, he was serene and placid. Like a statue. He was 77 then, though didn't look a day over 30, which is a funny thing about elves. He grew to be the same age as my father when he died, Got bless his soul, but looks not much older than myself. I remember the way he looked down at me from atop his throne, in his robes and finery. Heh… I felt naked standing there among his court, in my navy officer uniform. I had inaugurated the first ship for the Coast Guard, not a month earlier, so it felt fitting I wore it to greet the emperor.

The needle jumped out of its groove and scratched about the surface of the record, much to the annoyance of everyone listening. Villim, sat in the chez-lounge beside his aged mother, gave the machine an irked expression, gesturing to a maid in the corner.

“Beatrix, if you could please replace the needle on that infernal machine, I would forever be in your gratitude.” The whole family had come together, to be with father for his last days. Everyone knew the time was near, and for some, it was a blessing, the whole nation was in an apprehensive silence. And for once, Villim’s deaf brother Maethias wasn't missing out on anything. In the corner of the windowed study, sat closest to the bay, the oldest prince watched his wife sign to him what was going on. Villim had told him they would be listening to records, but the requirement of hearing didn't seem to dissuade him. From nearby their sister Kara caught Maethias’ attention, signing something that made him grin.

The queen mother closed her eyes and released a long sigh, listening as the servant’s footfalls approached them and then draw away towards the phonograph. She was five when Vulfram went to meet the Elven King, no one then would have ever guessed she would be queen back then. She opened her eyes, the room tinted with nostalgia, and made a noise between a sob and a laugh.

“Damein should be here.” She said, looking at the tall doors at the end of the study, as if he was going to step through them at any moment. Damein, the eldest brother, would have turned 35 a few months prior, had he not died at 16 due to complications surrounding his sickliness. Which later would be classified as polio. Maethias, who sat facing his mother, frowned having read her lips. He was old enough to remember what kind of person Damein was like, Kara, of course, remembered him, but did not see much of him. A mistake she would not make with her remaining brothers, whom she spent much of the year bouncing between. Villim took his mother’s hand and kissed it, holding it to his chest as he watched the darkly dressed maid replace the needle. She wore a floral hairpin however, as if she were a testament to the old saying ‘You can't bleach a Falla.’

“You must forgive me for not being present to witness the Cerulean being put to the water.” he said in perfect Fallian, though the fact he knew the name of the ship was far more surprising. They told me to wait for the Emperor to speak first, I did not expect this to be his first words. Hehe.. “You were busy kinging,” I replied idiotically, not sure how it came to me or why I had said it. But, to answer your question.. Yes, I do believe we got along rather well..

As he grew older, King Vulfram took it upon himself to chronical his life, with the aid of a young sound specialist who over time became the king’s de facto biographer. Sylus Girdbeck would remain a close friend to the king and eventually the family, and wept quietly to himself from his chair by the door as the memoir played. Despite the state of war between the two princes, The Elven King was given a ceremonious funeral, one that (despite the human hostility about Ylleria) Vulfram had to attend. Ecruir, though cold, respected the ageing king’s desire to be close to the head of the procession, to see his friend of many decades off into the next life. Despite the fact that Naerzo believed in no such thing, Vulfram hoped the emperor would be there for him when it was his turn to arrive.

The day had lapsed into night, the moon was a sliver in the sky, and the ambient light of the stars illuminated the forests and meadows that surrounded the Zaelandt Estate, the private seasonal, residence of King Vulfram. The Queen had excused herself long before, accompanied by Girdbeck, Maethias and his wife, leaving only Kara and Villim, and a pair of guards by the door.

There is not a day that goes by that I do not think of Damein…

The pair sat silently, as the needle went around the record, occasionally popping and hissing. They looked down into their drinks, a wine and a gin-tonic respectively, the mood was indeed a sombre one, as news came from their father’s bedchamber regarding his deteriorating health. They’d look up at each other when they heard footsteps on the floorboards above, and Villim checked his watch constantly as if the train was late.

“10 Lire he won’t last the night.” Kara said finally, breaking the silence, making the tasteless joke to cut the tension in the air. Villim snorted, followed by a mirthless chuckle, rummaging through his trouser pocket sarcastically before sitting up in his seats. He would have taken that bet, had he carried cash on him.

“I don’t think father would appreciate us gambling under his nose.” Looking over at his sister, a thought flitted through his mind. Maethias was meant to be king, after Damein perished he was set to inherit the throne from their incumbent father, but as he grew older he realised it would not have been in the country’s best interests if a deaf man inherited. His sister, his elder by 2 years, couldn't inherent on account of being a woman, however unfair the law was it had not been changed. That left Villim, and the stress had certainly gotten to him as his father’s health deteriorated. More and more of his time was demanded by preparatory lessons, military academies, observing parliament, and other activities, despite all this he wasn't sure whether he was going to be ready or not.

But time waited for no man.

From upstairs, through the floorboards, a wail cried through the house and the pair dropped their eyes somberly. Villim rose, looked up and took a long draught from his drink, raising his glass to the ceiling.

“Dear Lord-Father, Who art king in the heavens and on the earth, Deliver us your blessings and deliver us from your wrath, And keep us in your good company, For this time and all times.” He proclaimed, before placing his glass down and taking a shaky breath. “Son of a bitch I think I'm going to have a heart attack.” He muttered under his breath as he headed for the doors, the gleaming guards pulling them open as he passed through.

‘Long live the King.’ Kara thought, biting back her tears as she contemplated her wine.

The headlines and records the next day echoed across a silent, sobered nation. From Zaelandt, on the Fallian border, all along the great tracks towards the capital, Mantz, in the north, people congregated to bid farewell to the Old King in his procession. The iron locomotive ripped across the landscape, Villim accompanying the body of his late father, cold under the layers of his uniform and regalia. Despite the noise of the steam engine and the grating of wheels against tracks, silence prevailed for the king-to-be. And it seemed for the time being that he understood the oblivion that his brother Maethias lived in.

In a cabin just ahead of the hearse, windows let the fleeting horizon peek at the pensive Prince. Pen in hand, he scribbled on a sheet of official stationery, fountain nib scrawling out his cursive thoughts. “To whom it may concern..” Villim mumbled, before shaking his head and crossing it out. “To all whom it concerns..” Two things really brought people together, enemies or otherwise, a wedding and a funeral. And his first official act as regent, before his ascension to the throne, was to assemble all those men and women of power and renown to watch his father be sent away.

He may have struggled with wording the invitation, but he did not struggle to recognize to whom his father’s death concerned. An invitation to a funeral was always signed, sealed and delivered from one state to another, and who the recipient state would send to represent itself was wholly up to itself. Except for that one time. There were two people he wanted to be there, to be within spitting distance of one another. As such, Villim would not pen a letter to Yllendyr, instead he wrote two, inviting the pugilist princes both to the funeral.

Villim looked over his shoulder, at the door that lead to the hearse, where a flag draped coffin sat silently and in the dark. His father had met Olarth and Ecruir both, multiple times over many decades. They were the same age when they first met, despite them looking like children, but so was the curse of the elf. Villim hoped the death of someone close to their father could bring them close enough to have a dialogue.

“Someone has to sort out this mess.” He mumbled before binning the piece of paper.

To the Princes

To you, the most Regal Prince in Ylleria,

On behalf of the Union of Zeeborg and Fallia, a writ is sent. For by now the sad news of King Vulfram of House Wittykr-Marla’s passing must have reached you and your most esteemed court. This writ hereby asks of the Prince a moment of his time, to contemplate the life of another, and to join the mourners in congregation at the Baziliq af Mantz.

With respects and in the highest regard,

Heir-Apparent Villim of House Wittykr-Marla

___________________________________

To you, the most Serene Prince in Altairis,

On behalf of all the peoples of Zeeborg-Fallia, I do write to inform the passing of his Highness King Vulfram of House Wittykr-Marla. And as nation, it would bring us great peace of mind if you could dedicate a day of your life to remember the legacy of another, at the Basilique du Mantz.

Faithfully,

Prince-Regent Villim of House Wittykr-Marla

Addressed to the other nations

To all whom it concerns,

From one nation, to another. It is in this time, of great mourning, over the loss of HRH King Vulfram I, that the Union of Zeeborg-Fallia extends a warm hand of goodwill. And invites, any official who sees it fit and right to celebrate and remember the life of our dear sovereign, commencing the 3rd of this month, in the year 1905 of our lord, in the nave of the Basilica of Mantz.

Yours gratefully,

Prince Villim of House Wittykr-Marla

The Fading Light of V'landriel (Closed for Soft Reboot)

Nation Name: The Union of Zeeborg-Fallia

Type of Government: Federal, representative democratic, constitutional monarchy. Three chamber parliament, consisting of the lower house (Kamber’af Minskin/Chambre du Peuple), the upper house (Kamber’af Hearen/Chambre du Seigneurs) and the Royal Court (Keningskip/Conseil Monarchique).

Head(s) of Government:

H.R.M. King Vulfram of House Wittykr-Marla, Head of State.
Priminister Borb V. Ginderling, Head of Government.
Holy Father Frische Pomello, Head of The Church of Zeeborg-Fallia.

Economy:

Imports: Firearms, Explosives, Electric Parts, Automobiles, Specialty Metals.
Exports: Milled Stone, Grain, Yarn, Silver, Cement, Steel, Canned Foods, Machine-Tools/Parts, Music.

Much of Zeeborg-Fallia is agrarian in nature, with over half of the population employed in the agricultural sector, or as farmers to fill their own food demands. In recent times however, through government subsidies and education programs, there has been a calculated, planned increase of migration from the countrysides to city centers. In addition to this, with the advent of fertilizers and better farming techniques, food production increased beyond consumption rates, and encouraged the produce export industry, and the invention of various processes to treat, preserve and can food stuffs. The mineral sector is the next largest, the country being blessed with deep reserves of iron and coal but not much else, as a result, the quarrying of rock and sediment forms an unusually large part of the mining sector. A caveat to this however is silver, for which the country has two large deposits, in the proximity of the capital and the second city, the latter being the more plentiful. As far as heavy industry is concerned, most manufacturing takes place in the metropolitan area around the capital, due to the grand canal that allows goods to be transported out to the Meer and on to the world at large. The most prolifically produced luxury goods in Zeeborg-Fallia are those related to music, instruments, gramophones, vinyl records, microphones, high-quality cabling. Song, Poetry and The Spoken Word were and continue to be an important part of daily life, as such a well skilled community of craftspeople emerged to fill the niche. Zeeborg-Fallia also has control of a small but renowned merchant fleet, docking at ports along the banks of Lacq Meer, and flying the flag of the merchant navy. Most merchant navy ships often engaging in ocean whaling when out at sea, and generate added revenue from the valuable oils, meat, ambergris and highly prized scrimshaw. It has an operational tonnage of almost 4 million long tons.

Primary Species:

98% Human (Zeeborgish 61%, Fallians 36%, Other 1%), 1% Elf, 1% Other, a few Giants.

Population:

30,000,000

Culture:

Zeeborgs (Singular, Zeeborg or Zeeborger; Plural, Zeeborgish) are traditionally stiffer, quieter, and more reserved than their southern neighbors, they are concerned with functionality and efficiency. This is reflected in their personal appearances, blacks, white, beiges and greys are the de facto colors that make up what is acceptable (and economical). The Zeeborgs speak Zeeborgish, as a first language, a consonant filled language unusual due to the brevity of sentences and words, it is considered the least funny or romantic of the languages by all in Zeeborg-Fallia. To the south of them lie the other significant group, the Fallas (Singular, Falla; Plural, Fallians, Fallas) who are a stark contrast to the Zeeborgs. They are a more open, merry, and less drab people than their northern cousins, and have produced the vast majority of the poets, musicians and artists that have come to fame in Zeeborg-Fallia. Expectedly, as if the two groups have different uniforms, the Fallians dress in a wider range of colors, patterns and styles. Their language is lilting and filled with long, windy words and a love of plurals, even their syntaxes make it so that sentences are unusually long, despite this it is agreed that their language is more pleasant to the ear, but this does not mean one is richer than the other. There are however cultural norms that cross the divide of culture. Personal marksmanship is a critical part of the development of a male in Zeeborg-Fallia, and is often drilled into people from a young age, producing generations of competent marksman. If the rifle is the right arm of a Zeeborgish-Fallian man, the the dog is the left. Most households have some kind of dog, this stems from a long tradition of training and breeding dogs for hunting, shepherding and guarding. They developed a role in pest control with the advent of international trade, bringing in invasive species of birds and rodent. For a woman however, cooler heads prevail, they are often there to undo the mess of their menfolk, and as such they hold a well loved place in society. Being matrons of the home as well, as a national average, women are more likely than men to complete secondary school, and traditionally form the support men need to go be reckless. As such, most mothers and wives tent to know something about patching people up, and have taken this into advantage, most nurses, apothecers and general practitioners of medicine are women. In terms of education, every citizen has the right to free primary education, which involves Arithmetic, Zeeborgish, Fallian, and an Elective. Secondary education involves a small degree of specialization, and is of a more rigorous level, and is often different regionally, in contrast to Primary education which is prepared by the state. There are only three major universities in Zeeborg-Fallia, two in Zeeborg and one in Fallia, both teach in both languages but tend to have higher acceptance rates from students in their regions. Nevertheless, tertiary, university level education is very uncommon still. Despite having a written language, a significant amount of the knowledge and mediums of storing information are sound based, on record, or recording cylinders, and recently on experimental punchcard audiographs. Most articles of writing come with an audio counterpart, and in some cases are more popular, especially for poems and short stories. The proliferation of recording equipment and sound expertise also lead to the boom in the music industry, where before you were limited to where you could go and listen to music, now it is not unusual for households to have small libraries of music.

Religious and Other Beliefs:

The Church of Zeeborg-Fallia, is monotheistic faith, composed of a body of clergy of which one (Currently Father Frische Pomello) is first among equals. The theology of the church centers around the belief of a singular, omnipotent deity, Got, Lord of Worlds. They preach from the scripture that is believed to be the word of Got, and from the Anthology, a collection of volumes of analogies regarding the lives of saints and those chosen by Got to pass down his words from on high. The Church’s area of influence is subdivided into Ecclesiastical Provinces and Parishes, in descending size order. Parish priests are representatives of the Church at the local level, who performs baptisms, gives sermons and religious lectures, manages the church’s school and hospital, and collects census data on deaths and births in their parish. Ecclesiastical Priests are the parish priests for their particular parish, but have the added role of managing the regional coffers of the church and when the Holy Father passes on, elect a new one from among themselves. All priests are technically civil servants, due to the census data being collected by the governments from them, and because they run government primary schools and hospitals from their premises. A distinct part of the church is the Monastic Order, groups of priests who live in seclusion in places of sanctuary or divine importance and dedicate their lives to Got, they vow poverty and detach themselves from material possession. They often send members among them to preach itinerantly, and are renowned for the goods they produce, like wines and wood carvings and dyed fabrics and leathers. Martial Chaplins are also almost exclusively monks, as such most monks go through a level of militia training.

Location/Territories:

Climate:

The country experiences mild temperatures, temperate throughout the year, snow arrives in Decumber and recedes in Ganuary. Rain is most prevalent in spring and autumn, summers rarely exceed 30 degrees centigrade. The south of the country is divided from the north by a series of woodlands and hills, dividing two relatively flat planes, though the south is more hilly, approaching mountainous at the southernmost border. The north is marshy, though much has been reclaimed for agriculture, and is dotted with prominent hills. The climate dries up and elevation increases closer to the northern frontier, which is mostly rolling fields of tall grass and small patches of forestation.

Military:

Garde Civique/Borgwach: 77,000 personnel, 100 x 3” light field guns, 250 x belt-fed machine guns, magazine bolt-action rifles, hand grenades, revolvers. Basic volunteer forces, professional soldiers whose sole jobs are to soldier. They are characterised by their black great coats, silver buttons and buckles, heavy packs and black hats.
Garde-côte/Kustwacht: 1500 personnel, 100 x patrol boats, 10 x 9” Coast Guns, 60 x 6” Coast Guns, tube-fed lever-action carbines, auto-loading pistols, shotguns. Dressed in white and blue, the coast guard protect and monitor the comings and goings of merchant ships, boarding all of them before they come to port.
Gendarmerie/Miltêr-Plyse: 85,000 personnel, Shotguns, Single-shot breech-loading rifles, revolvers. The police of the country, they wear dark blue uniforms trimmed with silver, often wearing black leather rain cloaks and constabulary hats. For times when more force than their revolvers or truncheons is neccssary, they often dawn chest plates and arm themselves with rifles and shotguns.
Gardeduroi/ Keningwacht: 10,000 personnel, magazine bolt-action rifles, automatic pistols, hand grenades, light machine-guns, light/medium morters, automatic shotguns, melee weapons. The king’s guard is the elite military institution in Zeeborg-Fallia, with the best equipment and training, they are the cream of the crop, the most capable soldiers are skimmed out of training and are put through the rigorous process of becoming a king’s guard. The main differences between the Civil Guard and the King’s Guard uniforms are that the KGs carry much lighter packs, have more ammunition pouches, and have colored feathers in their hats. They are designed to be mobile, fast and effective, and are currently exploring the idea of motorization.

Magic Prevalence/Usage and Elemental Alignment: Basically nothing. Few individuals have trinket abilities, though not banned by the church, they look down at it.

History/Background Info:

De Sintoarloch/la Guerre de Scor/The Cinder War: The Cinder War is remembered in the sychy of the nation as a final dance, an epic battle for which they gave their all but it was not good enough. To their credit though, they held back the Elves for far longer than they had any right to. It was the Summer of 1719, and on her Northern Frontier, Zeeborg-Fallia was facing harassment from Illinderisch soldiers on her forts and towns, no one took much from it as the two countries had been hostile for years, a dispute over sea access. The garrisons in the north were enough to brush off the attackers. But without hindsight, the idea that these attacks were simply the pokings and proddings of a probing hand were inconceivable. Until on the 22nd of Ly, the Illinderisch launched an attack on the border fort at Bierblek. First hand accounts, though scarce, agreed that the fort fell in days and had been surrounded and overwhelmed before messengers could be sent out to warn the rest of the chain of the impending invasion. The Elvish armies left Bierblek in ruins, those who couldn’t escape or stay hidden when it was stormed were hunted and killed ruthlessly. The initial wave of attacks sent a shock through the nation, as forts all along the border fell in a similar fashion to Bierblek. By Vember all the forts in the frontier had fallen, much to the surprise of the Elven generals, who did not anticipate such vigorous defence or lack of willingness to surrender. This bought the Zeeborgs more time, as they bolstered the towns and cities to the south, dug fortifications and blew bridges. The Illinderisch high command were furious, they were making progress, but they would not reach the capital before winter snowfall came. The Elves sent an appeal, an ultimatum to the Fallians, whose land had yet to be occupied or otherwise wracked by the slowly approaching war: “Join us, and fight against your Zeeborgish overlords, and you will be guaranteed amnesty and lenient treatment.” The Fallians refused, instead taking up arms with their Zeeborgish cousins, it is noted that after the ultimatum, the number of Fallian soldiers heading to the front had soared rapidly. In the end, the Fallians were rewarded for their steadfastness, and the crown-prince took a Fallian commoner as his wife. Winter slowed the Elvish offensive down to a halt, during their retreat from the invader, Royal Engineers torched forests and caved in coal mines, livestock was hurriedly shepherded behind the lines and any crops or orchards still remaining were burnt to nothing. Skirmishers did their best to hamper supply routes behind the enemy lines, and the few months of snow and rain were made miserable for the Elven Army. However, in that winter the elves too would strike blows. The then king was visiting soldiers at the front line, much to their fanfare, when he was picked off by an Elvish sharpshooter. In anger, the troops launched an offensive against the Illinderisch lines, but were ultimately futile in changing the pitch of the war. Instead the Elves counter attacked, and sunk deep into the country, until finally they reached the walls of the ancient capital. Where not even the great guns, bombards and mortars of the walls and castle were enough to keep the war-furious invaders from breeching and finally ending the war with the capture of the newly coronated king. An unconditional surrender was signed, though the king was allowed to stay. In the next few weeks the elves imposed a new constitution on Zeeborg-Fallia, weakening the power of the king and establishing a parliament and cabinet to keep the power of the popular monarch in check. Additionally, to further aid their conquest of other lands, the elves demanded reparations of money and men to fight in their distant wars, the defeated nation could not say no. This vassalage set the stage for the next few hundred years, as the country recovered from the violent events and picked itself back up. Modernity had arrived and hope returned that eventually, one day, they would be free from the yoke of the Illinderisch. But still, the shadows looms over the country, and when the elves come to collect their due, the nation collectively scowls and carries on with its business.

The Fading Light of V'landriel (Closed for Soft Reboot)

WIP NS for Zeeborg-Fallia

docs.google.com/document/d/1x8fIK00OX…

The Fading Light of V'landriel (Closed for Soft Reboot)

What, the industrialized/industrializing fantasy genre? It was the stuff of my day dreams for a long time, Ventium and its Heroic Tsar Voltus Ventus for just as long. It was good stuff, that I occassionally surf through and cringe at my mistakes and past writing style.

The Fading Light of V'landriel (Closed for Soft Reboot)

@Voltus_Ventus

In case you're wondering, yes, this is totally happening again.

Your presence reminded me to credit you, I was going to lol

@Mihndar

Nah, this is all you. Kinda reminiscent of my old ones. But I was never GM material. XD

Pitch of the Night

The morning sun came white and early, through the fog that rested over Briar Valley County. Birds darted from pine to tall pine, and the trees cut sunlight into misty, shafts. It was silent, undisturbed, and despite the brumous air, pleasant. A downy woodpecker carried out its namesake, the staccato of its rapping echoing through the canopy, accompanied by the sound of feet disturbing dirt as they walked. Bob stood at the foot of a tree, a great pine, the earth around it stunk and was water-logged, root-rot had unfortunately made itself at home in the tree. Looking up its trunk, he spotted the woodpecker and silently reached for the front pocket of his flannel shirt, slipping his hand under his jacket he produced a skinny book: "Birds of New England: A Birdwatcher's Complete Guide to New England's Boreal Fowl." Drawing a pencil from within the pages, he flicked through before checking the box for the Downy Woodpecker.

He had come home from work, exhausted as per usual, but none the less satisfied. He had managed to offload some old IBMs to a chain of gas-stations that operated in that part of New-England, convincing them it would make keeping track of their pump levels and backroom stocks a simpler and speedier affair. And it would, but maybe not for the first few weeks. But throwing in a machine for the manager's wife, free of charge, was no small part in swaying the otherwise reluctant manager. Closing the door behind him, Bob hung up his jacket and tie, before heading over to the kitchen and opening the fridge, peering inside. As he pulled the door open, however, a faint groaning sound tickled the inside of his ear. He ruffled his brows and tried the door once again, swinging it from side to side to see if it was the work of the hinges. Shrugging, he withdrew a soda from the fridge and slammed the fridge shut. As he turned away Bob heard the sound of rushing air, and just as suddenly the ceiling collapsed. The trunk of a pine crashed downwards towards him, crushing him against the ground and impaling him with its branches. He lay there twitching for a few, feeling his beard soak from the growing puddle of vital fluid, before his face became lax and his eyes expressionless.

Bob blinked up at the tree, giving it a few more moments as he enjoyed the cool mist on his face, before picking up the axe that leaned against his leg. He wandered over to the other side of the tree, the side that faced away from his home, and marked with his axe a line about stomach hip level on the trunk. With his first swing, the axe embedded itself deeply, shaking the length of the tree and causing surrounding birds to flee with a flurry of flapping. Drawing his axe from the wood he proceeded to chop down the tree, it was a shame, but he would have rather had it fell anywhere than him. After almost an hour, of un-intensive chopping, the pine groaned in a familiar key, as it listed to the side. Bob had vacated the vicinity upon the first sign that the tree was going to tip, and from a safe distance watched the trunk tear away from the stump as it crashed to the ground. He stood there for a few moments longer, leaning on his axe as the dust settled and the sound of birds returned. He let the axe fall away as he turned around and returned home.

Reminding himself to bring the extra fancy pamphlets, to impress the manager's wife.

Pitch of the Night

Maybe he could be cursed to never leave the vicinity of his business? XD