@Ammokkx - A very good point raised about place in the CS to put down your characters abilities, I will add that so you can edit that in. Secondly Dreamselfy is okay however it is still quite anime-ish. If you could find either an artwork or something to go with that. I understand you may like the outfit etc. so I am happy for that link to be there as a reference but I would prefer a description or artwork there that is less cartoony, currently I am led to believe your character has no nose and her eyes take up a quarter of the front of her head.
gowia
Member
Buried in a Book
STATUS: Sometimes it doesn’t matter too much what choice you make, as long as you make it quick and stick to it. 3 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 1 yr ago
- Old Guild Username: gowia
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 1755 (0.44 / day)
- VMs: 1
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3 yrs ago
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Sometimes it doesn’t matter too much what choice you make, as long as you make it quick and stick to it.
3 yrs ago
Merry Easter, one and all. Happy Day if you celebrate it or, if not, I just hope it was a happy day anyways
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likes
3 yrs ago
Just had a long weekend of travel, weddings, and hangovers. I will reply ASAP once my head stops hurting. Apologies for the delay
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3 yrs ago
You should laugh every moment you live, for you'll find it decidedly difficult afterwards.
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3 yrs ago
Remember never to step on a mans Timbs. Entirely not based.
Bio
Hey there, I assume you want to know about me so here it is...
The name is gowia (g-ow-ee-ah) or Alex. Or anything else you come up with, I'm not fussy.
I am a 25 year old male, though comfortably I'll play anything as a character.
I am a Brit born and bred and so that is my lingo, I use British words and love my slang, and if I don't seem to make sense I may simply be using English idioms that don't translate outside the rural country abodes I swan around.
I enjoy all sorts of things, I am an avid football (soccer) player and supporter, adore music, and live for a good story. I am in love with history. So you will always get a decent plot or conversation out of me on that subject.
If there is anything else you need to ask, feel free too. I swear I don't bite... much.
The name is gowia (g-ow-ee-ah) or Alex. Or anything else you come up with, I'm not fussy.
I am a 25 year old male, though comfortably I'll play anything as a character.
I am a Brit born and bred and so that is my lingo, I use British words and love my slang, and if I don't seem to make sense I may simply be using English idioms that don't translate outside the rural country abodes I swan around.
I enjoy all sorts of things, I am an avid football (soccer) player and supporter, adore music, and live for a good story. I am in love with history. So you will always get a decent plot or conversation out of me on that subject.
If there is anything else you need to ask, feel free too. I swear I don't bite... much.
Most Recent Posts
Soft groans and the sound of flesh against flesh drove the demons of sleep from the head of most who stayed in the Farmer’s Daughter. Even the employees struggled to sleep until at least their third moon working there. The Farmer’s Daughter - or ‘Farm’, as it was known to the locals – sat snugly in the bend of the River Platt, making it only a short journey across Toll Man Bridge into Gothic-Maxima proper. Do not be fooled, however, and think that the Farm’s proximity to wealth makes it anything like the pretentious and classy establishments found within the city limits. The Farm came into being around twelve summers ago after two plots of dock space, among other vast swathes of the Hollows, were burnt to the ground in the Great Fire of 868 XIIA. Allowing the proprietor to pick up the land cheaply and give it a new purpose.
It was these soft groans that first awoke Rask, drawing his mind back to reality from the realm of dreams he had been enjoying. At first the only sight that greeted Rask was the gloom and shade of his room, nicknamed ‘a cell’ by the working girls for reasons plainly obvious to him. Quickly Rask’s eyes adjusted to the lack of light and he was able to pick out details close by. The splintered wooden walls were close either side of him and gave the impression of lying in a hallway, rather than on a bed. The hard wood of the cot could easily be felt through the stained sheet that counted as his mattress, and it had left him feeling stiff this morning as he attempted to sit up on his elbows. Rask normally slept in the nude, though as he put his elbows down and felt the crust of dried fluids left by the previous occupant; he remembered why he had elected to remain fully clothed. Swivelling ninety degrees on buttocks Rask sat upright and stretched upwards, letting his feet touch the floor and gently bump against his boots, which he had removed.
Slipping his feet into the boots and lacing them up was but a moment's work and Rask was taking a few short steps out of his cell before he knew it. His ‘door’ was actually a dark curtain on a rail just inside the frame and allowed for very little in the way of privacy, meaning Rask could simply shoulder his way out and into the actual hall on the top floor with little to no effort. His room was the furthest from the stairs and meant he had to walk past the rooms of the working girls before he could descend into the actual business. The girl’s rooms were exactly the same design to his, a small wooden cot at the far end, a solid looking chest at the foot of the cot, a curtain for a door and no window; only a small alcove in which a candle could be placed. Where the girl’s rooms differed was that many had thicker mattresses and cleaner sheets, as well as some personal decoration on the walls. Obviously bought using the wage they earned whoring, Rask thought. There were a few windows on the hallway allowing some light to pass in and a sprawled body of a working girl could be seen in some of the cots. Most had their curtains open as natural light was a commodity here; a commodity well worth allowing some of the other working girls seeing you sleep. Rask had tried on his first day to drag the latch on one of the windows up however the thing had rusted shut and so the smell of sweat, stale sex and cheap perfumes permeated the floor like a solid. Hunting down un-assaulted nostrils and invading quickly.
The usual thoughts on his accommodation killed the time from his room to the stairs and taking them two at a time, he climbed down into the Lounge, making sure to duck slightly so that his tall stature didn't cause him to strike his head on the frame of the way down. This floor was very different too the one above. Firstly there was far more windows that did actually open, allowing the room to feel fresher and more spacious immediately. Furthermore a majority of the space was openly planned, the fireplace being the centre, and then everything else built off of it. Making the entire floor feel even fresh. The fireplace had a number of long sofas around it and a small table in the middle of them, off to one side was a well varnished bar with stools, all of which backed onto the windows at the front of the establishment. Then the opposite side of the floor too Rask had two sets of doors. The first was a set of two doors, the owner’s room and office; and the girls’ lounge where they could get ready for the day and relax when off hours. Rask had no idea what was actually behind either of those doors though. The second set of doors numbered around eight and behind each of them was a room, about twice the size of a cell. These rooms had a larger bed, a mini bar and a chest with certain tools of the working girl’s trade. In his stay at the Farm Rask had frequented these rooms a number of times. This was where the girls took patrons who were after a certain type of entertainment. The vile aroma of the floor above seemed to rise and so this floor only smelt of the cheap perfumes and modestly priced spirits. It was early hours and so this floor was fairly empty, there was only one patron sitting at the bar, from his escort’s look he had been there since opening and looked to be more interested in talking and drinking, rather than whoring. The other girls who weren't upstairs would either be in their lounge, or out and about the Hollows; since the morning was probably the safest time to go out.
The previous floor always left a wry smile on Rask's face as he descended once more, a smile which once again appeared as he was arriving on the ground floor. This floor was your average tavern. A large bar occupied one side of the room and the rest was made up of tables and stools set up to accommodate both large parties and lone drinkers. The end opposite the bar was raised slightly and every night furniture was removed from the cheap plinth to allow for a bard or troupe to play. This floor was fairly dank and dark despite having as many windows as the floor above. This was mainly due to the much larger quantity of furniture on the floor and the position of four load bearing pillars, spaced apart equally around the floor. The barkeep, known only as Grin – most likely due to the fact that the man never smiled, who said those in poverty didn’t appreciate irony – was polishing glasses and gave the only paying tenant a passing nod. Rask returned the gesture and walked around the back of the stairs. Here a trap door had been permanently jammed open using a wooden block, allowing for people to freely use a set of quite steep stairs, leading to the basement.
The basement wasn't actually in use yet, it never was until the evening, and so the candle alcoves that seemed to give the whole room an almost church like feel, hadn't been lit. The basement was split into two sections by a thin rope rail, strung from one wall to its opposite. On one side there was a cloth matt covering bare stone, this was the ring. The Farm held a small fighting tourney here for residents of the Hollows and this allowed the owner of the Farm to make a lot of money off bookies and the other vices of patrons. The opposite section of the room was larger, with wooden plank, like the other floors and had a number of tables set up for both spectating the fights and playing card and dice games, another way for the owner to make money, as he took a percentage share of all winnings earned. Of course if you played a wager-less game, he would probably have the bouncers beat you and kick you out for being too poor, taking any money you had at the same time as well.
Now, according to Civitas law prostitution, gambling and serving drinks were all legal. However the law also stated that a licence was required by each location, for each of these services. This would mean that the owner of the Farm would need to purchase three licenses in total, none of which he had bought of course. The guards rarely ventured into the Hollows though, and those that did, did so in force and were paid off to stay clear of the Farmer’s Daughter. This gave Rask a great deal of safety and anonymity that he could not afford to lose. Making his way over to the bar Rask sat down on the stool closest to the stairs and hunched over the decrepit wood that was looked after not nearly as well as the bar upstairs, causing his long black hair to drop in front of his weathered face ever so slightly. Each wavy lock reached down far enough that from a distance it might look as if his hair actually fed right into his ragged beard, but you would of course be mistaken to think so.
There was a squelching of mud just outside the door before the wooden shutter was slammed almost off of its hinges. Standing in the doorframe, silhouetted by the light behind him, stood a short bald man who looked as if he had just been thrown from the stables. His outfit was the shit shade of brown and he looked as if he had never owned another set of rags, his features covered in a thin grime that accumulated on everything in the Hollows. Stumbling in the man rushed towards the bar, almost falling over, and proceeded to knock a number of glasses onto the floor. The shattering glass broke the silence Rask had been enjoying causing him to turn and stare daggers at the arrival. The man, seemingly unaware of his indiscretion, continued to pull out a worn coin purse and order a drink. Grin simply looked at the glass on the floor and then at the man, not once moving to fill a glass. Clearly the drunkard didn’t know when enough was enough, slamming his fists onto the bar in anger at having not been served.
“Why don't you piss off home? Nobody is going to serve you here, or anywhere, might as well save yourself a beating. This place won't take kindly to your attitude.” The drunkard turned to Rask, a disgusted look on his face, eying up Rask he looked at the man’s hunched posture and the edge of grey creeping into his black hair. Drunken bravery told the alcoholic that this was a fight he could win.
“Why don't you make me leave? I want another drink, damn it and I will get one here, no grumpy fuck is gonna’ change that.” Standing up Rask straightened his back and stood to face the drunk. Rask was at least a head taller than the drunk and was broader too. He certainly wasn’t immensely bulky but the lean muscle he did have was tough as nails. Suddenly the drunk didn't look quite so confident and, backing away slowly, tripped over his own feet. Falling onto the hardwood he yelped in pain, it sounded like he had fractured his wrist in the fall. Walking forward Rask grabbed the drunk by the scruff of his tunic and pulled him to the entrance where upon he used his foot to push the man out of the door. Turning back to the bar he got another nod from Grin who was now working to clean up the glass shards. Sighing Rask sat back on his stool and heard a mug pass over the rough wood. Looking up Grin had poured him out a milk for breakfast, he was willing to pay however he assumed it was his reward for clearing out some early rabble. Sipping at the milk Rask grimaced, pulling his thick jawline and deeply set features into a jagged portrait, it was warm. Though in truth he preferred something non-alcoholic in the morning and you could never trust the water in the Hollows.
Rask put his hand in his pocket and rolled the two items between his fingers gently. The first was a rusty key, for the chest in his room that held his gear, and the other was a dirtied gold coin. Both reminded him that his time in this hellhole was almost over. If all had gone according to plan his advertisement would draw some attention, then he could set out for his true goal, rather than sit around and fuck whores whilst drinking himself silly. Over the next few hours Rask sat and drank, chatting to some of the regulars, awaiting his party of adventurers to arrive.
It was these soft groans that first awoke Rask, drawing his mind back to reality from the realm of dreams he had been enjoying. At first the only sight that greeted Rask was the gloom and shade of his room, nicknamed ‘a cell’ by the working girls for reasons plainly obvious to him. Quickly Rask’s eyes adjusted to the lack of light and he was able to pick out details close by. The splintered wooden walls were close either side of him and gave the impression of lying in a hallway, rather than on a bed. The hard wood of the cot could easily be felt through the stained sheet that counted as his mattress, and it had left him feeling stiff this morning as he attempted to sit up on his elbows. Rask normally slept in the nude, though as he put his elbows down and felt the crust of dried fluids left by the previous occupant; he remembered why he had elected to remain fully clothed. Swivelling ninety degrees on buttocks Rask sat upright and stretched upwards, letting his feet touch the floor and gently bump against his boots, which he had removed.
Slipping his feet into the boots and lacing them up was but a moment's work and Rask was taking a few short steps out of his cell before he knew it. His ‘door’ was actually a dark curtain on a rail just inside the frame and allowed for very little in the way of privacy, meaning Rask could simply shoulder his way out and into the actual hall on the top floor with little to no effort. His room was the furthest from the stairs and meant he had to walk past the rooms of the working girls before he could descend into the actual business. The girl’s rooms were exactly the same design to his, a small wooden cot at the far end, a solid looking chest at the foot of the cot, a curtain for a door and no window; only a small alcove in which a candle could be placed. Where the girl’s rooms differed was that many had thicker mattresses and cleaner sheets, as well as some personal decoration on the walls. Obviously bought using the wage they earned whoring, Rask thought. There were a few windows on the hallway allowing some light to pass in and a sprawled body of a working girl could be seen in some of the cots. Most had their curtains open as natural light was a commodity here; a commodity well worth allowing some of the other working girls seeing you sleep. Rask had tried on his first day to drag the latch on one of the windows up however the thing had rusted shut and so the smell of sweat, stale sex and cheap perfumes permeated the floor like a solid. Hunting down un-assaulted nostrils and invading quickly.
The usual thoughts on his accommodation killed the time from his room to the stairs and taking them two at a time, he climbed down into the Lounge, making sure to duck slightly so that his tall stature didn't cause him to strike his head on the frame of the way down. This floor was very different too the one above. Firstly there was far more windows that did actually open, allowing the room to feel fresher and more spacious immediately. Furthermore a majority of the space was openly planned, the fireplace being the centre, and then everything else built off of it. Making the entire floor feel even fresh. The fireplace had a number of long sofas around it and a small table in the middle of them, off to one side was a well varnished bar with stools, all of which backed onto the windows at the front of the establishment. Then the opposite side of the floor too Rask had two sets of doors. The first was a set of two doors, the owner’s room and office; and the girls’ lounge where they could get ready for the day and relax when off hours. Rask had no idea what was actually behind either of those doors though. The second set of doors numbered around eight and behind each of them was a room, about twice the size of a cell. These rooms had a larger bed, a mini bar and a chest with certain tools of the working girl’s trade. In his stay at the Farm Rask had frequented these rooms a number of times. This was where the girls took patrons who were after a certain type of entertainment. The vile aroma of the floor above seemed to rise and so this floor only smelt of the cheap perfumes and modestly priced spirits. It was early hours and so this floor was fairly empty, there was only one patron sitting at the bar, from his escort’s look he had been there since opening and looked to be more interested in talking and drinking, rather than whoring. The other girls who weren't upstairs would either be in their lounge, or out and about the Hollows; since the morning was probably the safest time to go out.
The previous floor always left a wry smile on Rask's face as he descended once more, a smile which once again appeared as he was arriving on the ground floor. This floor was your average tavern. A large bar occupied one side of the room and the rest was made up of tables and stools set up to accommodate both large parties and lone drinkers. The end opposite the bar was raised slightly and every night furniture was removed from the cheap plinth to allow for a bard or troupe to play. This floor was fairly dank and dark despite having as many windows as the floor above. This was mainly due to the much larger quantity of furniture on the floor and the position of four load bearing pillars, spaced apart equally around the floor. The barkeep, known only as Grin – most likely due to the fact that the man never smiled, who said those in poverty didn’t appreciate irony – was polishing glasses and gave the only paying tenant a passing nod. Rask returned the gesture and walked around the back of the stairs. Here a trap door had been permanently jammed open using a wooden block, allowing for people to freely use a set of quite steep stairs, leading to the basement.
The basement wasn't actually in use yet, it never was until the evening, and so the candle alcoves that seemed to give the whole room an almost church like feel, hadn't been lit. The basement was split into two sections by a thin rope rail, strung from one wall to its opposite. On one side there was a cloth matt covering bare stone, this was the ring. The Farm held a small fighting tourney here for residents of the Hollows and this allowed the owner of the Farm to make a lot of money off bookies and the other vices of patrons. The opposite section of the room was larger, with wooden plank, like the other floors and had a number of tables set up for both spectating the fights and playing card and dice games, another way for the owner to make money, as he took a percentage share of all winnings earned. Of course if you played a wager-less game, he would probably have the bouncers beat you and kick you out for being too poor, taking any money you had at the same time as well.
Now, according to Civitas law prostitution, gambling and serving drinks were all legal. However the law also stated that a licence was required by each location, for each of these services. This would mean that the owner of the Farm would need to purchase three licenses in total, none of which he had bought of course. The guards rarely ventured into the Hollows though, and those that did, did so in force and were paid off to stay clear of the Farmer’s Daughter. This gave Rask a great deal of safety and anonymity that he could not afford to lose. Making his way over to the bar Rask sat down on the stool closest to the stairs and hunched over the decrepit wood that was looked after not nearly as well as the bar upstairs, causing his long black hair to drop in front of his weathered face ever so slightly. Each wavy lock reached down far enough that from a distance it might look as if his hair actually fed right into his ragged beard, but you would of course be mistaken to think so.
There was a squelching of mud just outside the door before the wooden shutter was slammed almost off of its hinges. Standing in the doorframe, silhouetted by the light behind him, stood a short bald man who looked as if he had just been thrown from the stables. His outfit was the shit shade of brown and he looked as if he had never owned another set of rags, his features covered in a thin grime that accumulated on everything in the Hollows. Stumbling in the man rushed towards the bar, almost falling over, and proceeded to knock a number of glasses onto the floor. The shattering glass broke the silence Rask had been enjoying causing him to turn and stare daggers at the arrival. The man, seemingly unaware of his indiscretion, continued to pull out a worn coin purse and order a drink. Grin simply looked at the glass on the floor and then at the man, not once moving to fill a glass. Clearly the drunkard didn’t know when enough was enough, slamming his fists onto the bar in anger at having not been served.
“Why don't you piss off home? Nobody is going to serve you here, or anywhere, might as well save yourself a beating. This place won't take kindly to your attitude.” The drunkard turned to Rask, a disgusted look on his face, eying up Rask he looked at the man’s hunched posture and the edge of grey creeping into his black hair. Drunken bravery told the alcoholic that this was a fight he could win.
“Why don't you make me leave? I want another drink, damn it and I will get one here, no grumpy fuck is gonna’ change that.” Standing up Rask straightened his back and stood to face the drunk. Rask was at least a head taller than the drunk and was broader too. He certainly wasn’t immensely bulky but the lean muscle he did have was tough as nails. Suddenly the drunk didn't look quite so confident and, backing away slowly, tripped over his own feet. Falling onto the hardwood he yelped in pain, it sounded like he had fractured his wrist in the fall. Walking forward Rask grabbed the drunk by the scruff of his tunic and pulled him to the entrance where upon he used his foot to push the man out of the door. Turning back to the bar he got another nod from Grin who was now working to clean up the glass shards. Sighing Rask sat back on his stool and heard a mug pass over the rough wood. Looking up Grin had poured him out a milk for breakfast, he was willing to pay however he assumed it was his reward for clearing out some early rabble. Sipping at the milk Rask grimaced, pulling his thick jawline and deeply set features into a jagged portrait, it was warm. Though in truth he preferred something non-alcoholic in the morning and you could never trust the water in the Hollows.
Rask put his hand in his pocket and rolled the two items between his fingers gently. The first was a rusty key, for the chest in his room that held his gear, and the other was a dirtied gold coin. Both reminded him that his time in this hellhole was almost over. If all had gone according to plan his advertisement would draw some attention, then he could set out for his true goal, rather than sit around and fuck whores whilst drinking himself silly. Over the next few hours Rask sat and drank, chatting to some of the regulars, awaiting his party of adventurers to arrive.
Rask's Broken Horn Band
An Introduction
Welcome, to Trameria. A land filled with mystery, adventure and of course, treasure. In the past Trameria has seen both heroes and villains rise and fall, all of them forming large stashes of gold and even some magical items. However years of passing down stories has led to large vaults of treasure being lost in the sands of time. Now many of the current leaders are former adventurers who made their fortune and power from looting the stashes of heroes gone by. Rask is the leader of one of the newest Adventuring Companies, and you, are his first recruits. You come from all across Trameria, however for one reason or another you have ended up in the East of the Empire of Civitas.
The World
In regards to magic it is a rarity, however not unheard of and so I am happy for people to use it. But don't everyone have a mage, and don't expect to be throwing meteors around as you will.
Your Story
From here it is now up to you to make a character to live in this world. You are free to do this as you please however there are a few things to adhere to when creating so that your characters are realistic for the world. ALso, please, make them three dimensional. I don't want any perfect heroes who have a history of saving the world and getting the girl with nothing lost. Your characters are not the best, hell they are signing up with an unknown in a fairly shady neighbourhood. They may once have been big shots, but not anymore. I also require that you be willing to vaguely create and play as NPCs and side characters for the purpose of story. Finally, I am not going to run this like a D and D. Yes i have plots and stories etc. however if you think we could use a twist, throw one in. I am more than welcome of it. So now that is all done, there is a character sheet below. Please post a finished copy in the OOC and if all is well I will give you the all clear to post it in the character tab. If you want some diversity in the group let me tell you now, Rask is an accomplished swordsman and has very minor magic use.
Character Sheet
Name: (Should be self explanatory)
Age: (Should be self explanatory)
Gender: (Should be self explanatory)
Species: (Current species are Human, dwarf, elf and troll (troll is one of my own creation, appearance-wise they appear to look like humans who have abused steroids mixed with a neanderthals over extended forehead.))
Appearance: (Please use a description or an image here, but no manga or anime)
Bio: (I'm not expecting a book here unless you want too, I am happy for specifics to appear IC)
Equipment: (Just the items you have, a weapon and what not, don't be over the top. Remember you are looking for work)
Abilities: (How do they fight? And what skills have they acquired over the years)
Reason for Joining the Broken Horns: (Pretty self-explanatory)
@Ammokkx
@Perfidious Mars
@Lone Wanderer
@Kangaroo
Your RP is up.
An Introduction
Welcome, to Trameria. A land filled with mystery, adventure and of course, treasure. In the past Trameria has seen both heroes and villains rise and fall, all of them forming large stashes of gold and even some magical items. However years of passing down stories has led to large vaults of treasure being lost in the sands of time. Now many of the current leaders are former adventurers who made their fortune and power from looting the stashes of heroes gone by. Rask is the leader of one of the newest Adventuring Companies, and you, are his first recruits. You come from all across Trameria, however for one reason or another you have ended up in the East of the Empire of Civitas.
The World
In regards to magic it is a rarity, however not unheard of and so I am happy for people to use it. But don't everyone have a mage, and don't expect to be throwing meteors around as you will.
Your Story
From here it is now up to you to make a character to live in this world. You are free to do this as you please however there are a few things to adhere to when creating so that your characters are realistic for the world. ALso, please, make them three dimensional. I don't want any perfect heroes who have a history of saving the world and getting the girl with nothing lost. Your characters are not the best, hell they are signing up with an unknown in a fairly shady neighbourhood. They may once have been big shots, but not anymore. I also require that you be willing to vaguely create and play as NPCs and side characters for the purpose of story. Finally, I am not going to run this like a D and D. Yes i have plots and stories etc. however if you think we could use a twist, throw one in. I am more than welcome of it. So now that is all done, there is a character sheet below. Please post a finished copy in the OOC and if all is well I will give you the all clear to post it in the character tab. If you want some diversity in the group let me tell you now, Rask is an accomplished swordsman and has very minor magic use.
Character Sheet
Name: (Should be self explanatory)
Age: (Should be self explanatory)
Gender: (Should be self explanatory)
Species: (Current species are Human, dwarf, elf and troll (troll is one of my own creation, appearance-wise they appear to look like humans who have abused steroids mixed with a neanderthals over extended forehead.))
Appearance: (Please use a description or an image here, but no manga or anime)
Bio: (I'm not expecting a book here unless you want too, I am happy for specifics to appear IC)
Equipment: (Just the items you have, a weapon and what not, don't be over the top. Remember you are looking for work)
Abilities: (How do they fight? And what skills have they acquired over the years)
Reason for Joining the Broken Horns: (Pretty self-explanatory)
@Ammokkx
@Perfidious Mars
@Lone Wanderer
@Kangaroo
Your RP is up.
Perfect. I now have a maximum number. Will start work on an OOC and tag those interested in it. Should be up sunday at some point.
Perfect. I now have a maximum number. Will start work on an OOC and tag those interested in it. Should be up sunday at some point.
Bump, only looking for one person.
Bump for 1 more person.
Okay...am busy nowish so I will finish this when I am free.
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