A longer one, but here we are!
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@Estylwen@ERode@Psyker Landshark@AThousandCurses
Withdrawing a vial of bubbling liquid silver from her coat, Sylv would look around the room at those who seemed to remain as assistants, and then to the scowling Raja turning the corner and walking out into the halls, before turning back towards Davil's bedside. "Once this vial is consumed, time will be of the essence as mentioned prior. It can be done with my efforts alone, but any contributors will reduce the strain. Breaking the stagnant rupa is the goal, and once that is accomplished, the rest is simple."
The doctor would summon forth her Adapa and prepare a timer with one hand while uncorking the bubbling vial with the other. "Those willing to assist may do so by holding tight to the patient. He will require a vast offering of nama and rupa the very moment the stagnancy is broken, and you must all be ready to give a minor donation. There will be no long term side effects of this procedure affecting you all, other than a minor day-long bout of migraines and depression at worst. With that being said, we must begin."
After ensuring that those who wished to aid the process were making contact with Davil, the stoic overseer tapped her Adapa to start the timer, and simultaneously downed the syrupy silver. "As fair warning, the visions may be disorienting."
Sylv's right arm would seem to rapidly calcify, before overgrowing with dark, hardened scales. Pointed claws would overtake her hands, but with the same neutral expression she had carried this whole time, it was business as usual for her. To the observant, there may have been the slightest wince of pain for but a moment as the transformation of her arm completed, but it was only for a flicker before her stoicism returned. With no further delay, she would raise her clawed arm and plunge it towards Davil's stomach without hesitation - at which point, the vision of those assisting in the procedure would short out briefly as a pulse of essence range through them.
Apart from Sylv, all who participated would find themselves in front of a sprawling lake. The moon shone above in such a way that gave the water a crystalline shine, and trees surrounded them on all sides. Two figures of small size sat on the grass by the lakeside, dipping their legs in and out of the water. One of them was wreathed in a patchy cloak, gaze downcast at the water, attempting to shut themselves out from the world, but the other was clearly Davil - younger, scrawnier, but clearly the same boy. His gaze was focused up at the stars, resolute despite the bandages, bruises and scratches dotted across his body. Neither of them seemed to acknowledge the presence of newcomers, nor could those newcomers seem to interact with this environment in a conventional sense.
"If your house no longer has knights, I'll become the only one you'll need."
With a weak smile forming across his face, he stood and raised a stray twig to the sky. His arm shook such that even gripping it proved to be laborious.
"I won't be the best, and it won't be for long. But I'll throw my life away for that purpose!"
The obscured figure would slowly begin to raise their head towards Davil, and everything would fade away. The rest, from the perspective of the visitors looking in, was nowhere near as clear. It would bring about a similar feeling to the shifting from Castalia to Ascendia, with the same mile-a-minute sensation. It would feel as if it were a battle of wills, maintaining individuality and perception of the self amidst a blizzard of emotions and experiences. Glimpses of select moments of Davil's life would impact one after another - the boy sparring in the same courtyard time and again against various warriors, never once claiming victory. His will to go on wavered, weakening and strengthening as weeks passed into months and years, and yet he came no closer to what he could consider the power he needed. Even as a vision of crimson passed, no sense of fulfillment was felt. A recurring sparring partner lay dead in the courtyard at midnight, blood on Davil's curved blade, shuddering, and more importantly, the wails of concern from far off - from the one he loved unconditionally, so far away as to be meaningless. The man had ill intentions, perhaps? Or not? The boy could no longer remember, that night or any after, even as guilt gnawed at him. He was not good at dueling, in that moment of scarlet blur, as a knight was. There could never be a world where Davil Wund could fight.
He was good at killing.
As guards surrounded him with spears from all angles across the courtyard of the estate, his life over as they barked for him to drop the blade, his last thoughts were not selfless.
"I couldn't win, even once."
Thunk...
Thump.
CRACK.
All at once, the echoing thrums of a cracked shell exploded in the ears of the visitors. Reality had returned, and all were back in room 106 of the clinic to the sounds of the doctor's alarm droning on. Sylv's clawed arm was plunged into Davil's torso, and small tendrils prodded about him. Blood left him like he were a human faucet, but she persisted without remorse. "Stagnation has broken. Donate what nama and rupa you can, step back, and if you require it, compose yourselves and sit down."
After others had cleared the bedside, Sylv would all at once tear the scaled arm out of Davil and, in that same instant, use the tendrils shrouding it to grasp at the flasks she had placed, uncorking and dumping the contents of all three of them into the boy's open torso. Still maintaining a blank expression as it happened, Sylv's scaled arm would seem to flake and break off entirely, thudding to the floor of the clinic and smashing into a fine dust on the ground. A petrified stub remained where her right arm formerly was, though she regarded it with no particular interest. She would look across her assistants to gauge their physical and mental states, and state, "Mr. Wund will require constant bed rest for at least a week, but the worst has been tended to. Do any of you require medical attention?"
As she inquired, Davil's torso could be seen visibly sealing itself up. Ciara, for her part, would feel the jolt of an Umbralist’s presence near her. For the faintest moment in her mind, even in her dreamscape, she would hear the meek whine of the shadow imp exclaiming, “She’s going to kill me, she is… death of us all, that Raja! Death of us bloody all!”
WINGRAM CLINIC, ROOM 106
Withdrawing a vial of bubbling liquid silver from her coat, Sylv would look around the room at those who seemed to remain as assistants, and then to the scowling Raja turning the corner and walking out into the halls, before turning back towards Davil's bedside. "Once this vial is consumed, time will be of the essence as mentioned prior. It can be done with my efforts alone, but any contributors will reduce the strain. Breaking the stagnant rupa is the goal, and once that is accomplished, the rest is simple."
The doctor would summon forth her Adapa and prepare a timer with one hand while uncorking the bubbling vial with the other. "Those willing to assist may do so by holding tight to the patient. He will require a vast offering of nama and rupa the very moment the stagnancy is broken, and you must all be ready to give a minor donation. There will be no long term side effects of this procedure affecting you all, other than a minor day-long bout of migraines and depression at worst. With that being said, we must begin."
After ensuring that those who wished to aid the process were making contact with Davil, the stoic overseer tapped her Adapa to start the timer, and simultaneously downed the syrupy silver. "As fair warning, the visions may be disorienting."
Sylv's right arm would seem to rapidly calcify, before overgrowing with dark, hardened scales. Pointed claws would overtake her hands, but with the same neutral expression she had carried this whole time, it was business as usual for her. To the observant, there may have been the slightest wince of pain for but a moment as the transformation of her arm completed, but it was only for a flicker before her stoicism returned. With no further delay, she would raise her clawed arm and plunge it towards Davil's stomach without hesitation - at which point, the vision of those assisting in the procedure would short out briefly as a pulse of essence range through them.
Apart from Sylv, all who participated would find themselves in front of a sprawling lake. The moon shone above in such a way that gave the water a crystalline shine, and trees surrounded them on all sides. Two figures of small size sat on the grass by the lakeside, dipping their legs in and out of the water. One of them was wreathed in a patchy cloak, gaze downcast at the water, attempting to shut themselves out from the world, but the other was clearly Davil - younger, scrawnier, but clearly the same boy. His gaze was focused up at the stars, resolute despite the bandages, bruises and scratches dotted across his body. Neither of them seemed to acknowledge the presence of newcomers, nor could those newcomers seem to interact with this environment in a conventional sense.
"If your house no longer has knights, I'll become the only one you'll need."
With a weak smile forming across his face, he stood and raised a stray twig to the sky. His arm shook such that even gripping it proved to be laborious.
"I won't be the best, and it won't be for long. But I'll throw my life away for that purpose!"
The obscured figure would slowly begin to raise their head towards Davil, and everything would fade away. The rest, from the perspective of the visitors looking in, was nowhere near as clear. It would bring about a similar feeling to the shifting from Castalia to Ascendia, with the same mile-a-minute sensation. It would feel as if it were a battle of wills, maintaining individuality and perception of the self amidst a blizzard of emotions and experiences. Glimpses of select moments of Davil's life would impact one after another - the boy sparring in the same courtyard time and again against various warriors, never once claiming victory. His will to go on wavered, weakening and strengthening as weeks passed into months and years, and yet he came no closer to what he could consider the power he needed. Even as a vision of crimson passed, no sense of fulfillment was felt. A recurring sparring partner lay dead in the courtyard at midnight, blood on Davil's curved blade, shuddering, and more importantly, the wails of concern from far off - from the one he loved unconditionally, so far away as to be meaningless. The man had ill intentions, perhaps? Or not? The boy could no longer remember, that night or any after, even as guilt gnawed at him. He was not good at dueling, in that moment of scarlet blur, as a knight was. There could never be a world where Davil Wund could fight.
He was good at killing.
As guards surrounded him with spears from all angles across the courtyard of the estate, his life over as they barked for him to drop the blade, his last thoughts were not selfless.
"I couldn't win, even once."
Thunk...
Thump.
CRACK.
All at once, the echoing thrums of a cracked shell exploded in the ears of the visitors. Reality had returned, and all were back in room 106 of the clinic to the sounds of the doctor's alarm droning on. Sylv's clawed arm was plunged into Davil's torso, and small tendrils prodded about him. Blood left him like he were a human faucet, but she persisted without remorse. "Stagnation has broken. Donate what nama and rupa you can, step back, and if you require it, compose yourselves and sit down."
After others had cleared the bedside, Sylv would all at once tear the scaled arm out of Davil and, in that same instant, use the tendrils shrouding it to grasp at the flasks she had placed, uncorking and dumping the contents of all three of them into the boy's open torso. Still maintaining a blank expression as it happened, Sylv's scaled arm would seem to flake and break off entirely, thudding to the floor of the clinic and smashing into a fine dust on the ground. A petrified stub remained where her right arm formerly was, though she regarded it with no particular interest. She would look across her assistants to gauge their physical and mental states, and state, "Mr. Wund will require constant bed rest for at least a week, but the worst has been tended to. Do any of you require medical attention?"
As she inquired, Davil's torso could be seen visibly sealing itself up. Ciara, for her part, would feel the jolt of an Umbralist’s presence near her. For the faintest moment in her mind, even in her dreamscape, she would hear the meek whine of the shadow imp exclaiming, “She’s going to kill me, she is… death of us all, that Raja! Death of us bloody all!”
Next round later today!
So I think, factoring in skips, it'd be @Psyker Landshark left this round.
Rat-Iraleth smh.
Agenda Piece cannot be escaped.
@AThousandCurses
"It weakens, Kann. It cannot go on like this, and even she is aware."
These were the words that Chunji would walk in on before his interruption, spoken sternly by the woman. The energy in the room was down, to say the least, and was only shifted in the form of a brief distraction through the boy's words. Chloe avoided eye contact and seemed paler than usual, her body language tight and stiff as she crossed her arms. Kann would sweat somewhat at the breakdown of Davil's condition, gritting his teeth and seeming to be reflecting on what he'd just heard.
"Uhhh... r-right, yeah, totallyyy, I can work with that. J-Just-"
Clack.
The woman stepped forward and nudged Kann away, gesturing towards Chunji and then the door. "I am Dr. Sylv, the overseer of emergency care. My colleague appears to be overburdened with tasks as they are, and so I will step in to assist. Dr. Kann, I entrust you with current matters in here," she would bluntly state before moving towards the hallway without hesitation. It was a few blinks before Kann could break out of his own stuttering, and nodded gingerly. "Of course, yeah, you got it," was all he would mutter.
Chloe would briefly look towards Chunji as they left, a certain kind of twinkle in her eye. "Please make sure Davil turns out alright in there. Please?"
@Estylwen@ERode@Psyker Landshark@AThousandCurses
"GRAHHHHHH-"
Davil inhaled as his eyes shot open, but he had no time to take in the world around him. He was numb and so, so very confused, but Otis' reactions to his waking were so precise that it wasn't long after consciousness that liquid was crammed down his gullet. After taking it in, what was at first panic very quickly became hazy eyes and slow breathing. Each breath was conscious, and the overwhelming mixture of horrid, ghastly scents with what could only be described as the concept of 'mint' brought him into a state of realization. He could not bring himself to vocalize such things, but it was as if everything could be perceived all at once. The combination of various chemicals, scents and potions, alongside a near death experience that even now sought to fully claim him, brought about a state of inner enlightenment that only he could understand. He mouthed words, but no sound emerged.
Raja shook her head and shrugged as Iraleth questioned her. "The matter of Ms. Malthruse's battle with the Umbralist is still being looked into by tower security. Those who have entered the location of the battle - the supposed cathedral - have yet to return, and can't be contacted after entering. If it hasn't been sorted and resolved by the time things here have concluded, I will enter myself."
The principal's nails gripped tighter to the shadow imp that continued to remain lifeless in her grasp, piercing it. Her staff was trained on the area that Ciara rested, clearly seeing curtains as no object towards a well-placed evocation blast. Conflict painted the sorceress' face, fluctuations of hot wind gathering and receding like invisible tides, taking in the words of both Iraleth and Otis. It wouldn't take much, surely, to eradicate a sleeping insect. To swat a fly already on its last legs was trivial, something Raja could do without guilt or remorse. And yet...
Thunk.
Raja's staff rooted itself to the ground as she stepped away from it. She pointed towards Ciara's bed as she walked past it, giving Iraleth no further gaze. "That one will be dealt with soon, though it's not wholly my place to do so. That's a discussion for a less chaotic environment."
Moving near Davil's bedside, there was the slightest change in the boy's status. Faint, near invisible winds circled his wounds, forming more of those thin barriers. For a moment, the principal's brow furrowed at this, but she composed herself after a half-second. "I'm not a medical practitioner, nor a cleric, so my contributions in situations like these are limited. Let me try one thing."
Raising out a hand near Davil, a small sphere of wind gathered in her palm. "Cleanse."
The wind gently shifted towards Davil's wound and scattered throughout him. However, upon reaching the poison - which, for the moment, had slowed drastically due to the barriers - essence brought about by Raja's cleansing spell seemed to burn away on contact. She would shrug, take a step backwards, and regrettably mutter, "That's all I've got for the practical applications. If we're to discuss theoreticals, no mundane poison would completely reject a Cleanse spell, weak though it may be. Which means-"
"Magical poison, essence manipulation, or an Ethos," Dr. Sylv would conclude as she entered the room. She would step to Davil's bedside, glancing at Otis as she did so.
"I presume this has been your work up to now? It is acceptable."
Sighing, she would withdraw a series of flasks and set them by the nightstand. "After having reviewed the boy's condition, he can indeed be saved, but by a thin margin. What will soon follow in the next five minutes and thirty seconds will be visceral and ancient, but which will also require my undivided attention. I ask that once I begin, any squabbles be muted and cast aside. Those not confident in their restraint, or the faint of heart, leave now. Aspiring assistants may stay to aid, but must obey procedure without question."
Sighing, Raja would retrieve her staff and move towards the exit of the room without another word.
WINGRAM CLINIC, ROOM S-120
"It weakens, Kann. It cannot go on like this, and even she is aware."
These were the words that Chunji would walk in on before his interruption, spoken sternly by the woman. The energy in the room was down, to say the least, and was only shifted in the form of a brief distraction through the boy's words. Chloe avoided eye contact and seemed paler than usual, her body language tight and stiff as she crossed her arms. Kann would sweat somewhat at the breakdown of Davil's condition, gritting his teeth and seeming to be reflecting on what he'd just heard.
"Uhhh... r-right, yeah, totallyyy, I can work with that. J-Just-"
Clack.
The woman stepped forward and nudged Kann away, gesturing towards Chunji and then the door. "I am Dr. Sylv, the overseer of emergency care. My colleague appears to be overburdened with tasks as they are, and so I will step in to assist. Dr. Kann, I entrust you with current matters in here," she would bluntly state before moving towards the hallway without hesitation. It was a few blinks before Kann could break out of his own stuttering, and nodded gingerly. "Of course, yeah, you got it," was all he would mutter.
Chloe would briefly look towards Chunji as they left, a certain kind of twinkle in her eye. "Please make sure Davil turns out alright in there. Please?"
@Estylwen@ERode@Psyker Landshark@AThousandCurses
WINGRAM CLINIC, ROOM 106
"GRAHHHHHH-"
Davil inhaled as his eyes shot open, but he had no time to take in the world around him. He was numb and so, so very confused, but Otis' reactions to his waking were so precise that it wasn't long after consciousness that liquid was crammed down his gullet. After taking it in, what was at first panic very quickly became hazy eyes and slow breathing. Each breath was conscious, and the overwhelming mixture of horrid, ghastly scents with what could only be described as the concept of 'mint' brought him into a state of realization. He could not bring himself to vocalize such things, but it was as if everything could be perceived all at once. The combination of various chemicals, scents and potions, alongside a near death experience that even now sought to fully claim him, brought about a state of inner enlightenment that only he could understand. He mouthed words, but no sound emerged.
Raja shook her head and shrugged as Iraleth questioned her. "The matter of Ms. Malthruse's battle with the Umbralist is still being looked into by tower security. Those who have entered the location of the battle - the supposed cathedral - have yet to return, and can't be contacted after entering. If it hasn't been sorted and resolved by the time things here have concluded, I will enter myself."
The principal's nails gripped tighter to the shadow imp that continued to remain lifeless in her grasp, piercing it. Her staff was trained on the area that Ciara rested, clearly seeing curtains as no object towards a well-placed evocation blast. Conflict painted the sorceress' face, fluctuations of hot wind gathering and receding like invisible tides, taking in the words of both Iraleth and Otis. It wouldn't take much, surely, to eradicate a sleeping insect. To swat a fly already on its last legs was trivial, something Raja could do without guilt or remorse. And yet...
Thunk.
Raja's staff rooted itself to the ground as she stepped away from it. She pointed towards Ciara's bed as she walked past it, giving Iraleth no further gaze. "That one will be dealt with soon, though it's not wholly my place to do so. That's a discussion for a less chaotic environment."
Moving near Davil's bedside, there was the slightest change in the boy's status. Faint, near invisible winds circled his wounds, forming more of those thin barriers. For a moment, the principal's brow furrowed at this, but she composed herself after a half-second. "I'm not a medical practitioner, nor a cleric, so my contributions in situations like these are limited. Let me try one thing."
Raising out a hand near Davil, a small sphere of wind gathered in her palm. "Cleanse."
The wind gently shifted towards Davil's wound and scattered throughout him. However, upon reaching the poison - which, for the moment, had slowed drastically due to the barriers - essence brought about by Raja's cleansing spell seemed to burn away on contact. She would shrug, take a step backwards, and regrettably mutter, "That's all I've got for the practical applications. If we're to discuss theoreticals, no mundane poison would completely reject a Cleanse spell, weak though it may be. Which means-"
"Magical poison, essence manipulation, or an Ethos," Dr. Sylv would conclude as she entered the room. She would step to Davil's bedside, glancing at Otis as she did so.
"I presume this has been your work up to now? It is acceptable."
Sighing, she would withdraw a series of flasks and set them by the nightstand. "After having reviewed the boy's condition, he can indeed be saved, but by a thin margin. What will soon follow in the next five minutes and thirty seconds will be visceral and ancient, but which will also require my undivided attention. I ask that once I begin, any squabbles be muted and cast aside. Those not confident in their restraint, or the faint of heart, leave now. Aspiring assistants may stay to aid, but must obey procedure without question."
Sighing, Raja would retrieve her staff and move towards the exit of the room without another word.
I wasn't aware anime XCOM existed, and will now be giving it a try.
@AThousandCurses If Chunji were to peek in, he'd see Kann speaking with another doctor who is presumably Dr. Sylv, and Chloe would be sitting on the side of an examination bed in a hospital gown.
@AThousandCurses@Psyker Landshark
The halls of the clinic were oddly quiet - presumably due to whatever remained unresolved within the tower, and the injured had not yet reached this place as a result. Mannekin patrolled primarily, though the additional flesh-and-blood staff did walk through as well. The doctors, nurses and aides of the facility would almost definitely have no direct access to Raja's Adapa for the purpose of contact, and thus for Iraleth, the most likely inquiry within a brisk pace would be the receptionist out front in the waiting room. As for Chunji, he would quickly find a mousy-looking ratfolk with a thick folder nestled between his scrawny arms. He would measure at merely half the boy's height, and looked up at him with an anxious nod. Summoning an Adapa and conjuring forth a holographic layout of the clinic, he would point a finger towards a beeping red dot further away from the front of the building. "T-The doctor's signature appears to be in room S-120... a special care room, if you will. A-A few bends and turns, as you can see, and you'll be good and there, sir," he would sputter out. With a nod, the ratboy would timidly murmur, adjust his glasses, and shuffle past Chunji, heading the opposite direction.
Were Iraleth to head towards the receptionist, she would open the doors to the waiting room to what might be an unexpected sight. There, storming through the front doors on the opposite side, was Raja. In one hand, gnarled nails dug into the shadow imp who dangled there, limp. In the other, a staff brimming with flame, ice and lightning. Her eyes would lock with Iraleth, furious - not at her, but certainly furious. With a lump in her throat and an inferno dancing in her eyes, she would coldly exhale, "I know she rests here. Bring me to the Umbralist."
@Estylwen@ERode
Apart from Otis' tinkering, Ciara's utterances and the gargoyle's chuckles, all was quiet in the room. That was until Davil's lips shifted slowly back and forth, before parting. By all accounts, the boy was clearly unconscious, but a weak exhale escaped him, followed by a sickly groan. "It's not right... it's just not right..."
A faint wind blew around him, as if for a brief moment, a Personal Barrier assembly was attempted. A paper thin disc of wind gathered around his slashed open abdomen - weak enough that even a regular punch could break it - and with a cough, it dissipated. In that brief moment, were Otis still observing Davil's essence makeup, he would have seen a split second shift. The boy's prime essence, though dimming, had pulsed as if in defiance, sending a ripple throughout his body. This halted the advance of the poison, though only for a few seconds.
"Need it... the shield..."
The Wund boy's ramblings would trail off after that, and the poison would again proceed at its usual pace; though it almost appeared as if a portion of it had disappeared when the pulse shook through his body. Wind in the area would once more come to a calm, and any trace of essence manipulation had dispersed as well. From the other side of the room, growling could be heard emitting from the gargoyle, and its eyes were firmly locked on Davil now.
WINGRAM CLINIC, HALLS
The halls of the clinic were oddly quiet - presumably due to whatever remained unresolved within the tower, and the injured had not yet reached this place as a result. Mannekin patrolled primarily, though the additional flesh-and-blood staff did walk through as well. The doctors, nurses and aides of the facility would almost definitely have no direct access to Raja's Adapa for the purpose of contact, and thus for Iraleth, the most likely inquiry within a brisk pace would be the receptionist out front in the waiting room. As for Chunji, he would quickly find a mousy-looking ratfolk with a thick folder nestled between his scrawny arms. He would measure at merely half the boy's height, and looked up at him with an anxious nod. Summoning an Adapa and conjuring forth a holographic layout of the clinic, he would point a finger towards a beeping red dot further away from the front of the building. "T-The doctor's signature appears to be in room S-120... a special care room, if you will. A-A few bends and turns, as you can see, and you'll be good and there, sir," he would sputter out. With a nod, the ratboy would timidly murmur, adjust his glasses, and shuffle past Chunji, heading the opposite direction.
Were Iraleth to head towards the receptionist, she would open the doors to the waiting room to what might be an unexpected sight. There, storming through the front doors on the opposite side, was Raja. In one hand, gnarled nails dug into the shadow imp who dangled there, limp. In the other, a staff brimming with flame, ice and lightning. Her eyes would lock with Iraleth, furious - not at her, but certainly furious. With a lump in her throat and an inferno dancing in her eyes, she would coldly exhale, "I know she rests here. Bring me to the Umbralist."
@Estylwen@ERode
WINGRAM CLINIC, ROOM 106
Apart from Otis' tinkering, Ciara's utterances and the gargoyle's chuckles, all was quiet in the room. That was until Davil's lips shifted slowly back and forth, before parting. By all accounts, the boy was clearly unconscious, but a weak exhale escaped him, followed by a sickly groan. "It's not right... it's just not right..."
A faint wind blew around him, as if for a brief moment, a Personal Barrier assembly was attempted. A paper thin disc of wind gathered around his slashed open abdomen - weak enough that even a regular punch could break it - and with a cough, it dissipated. In that brief moment, were Otis still observing Davil's essence makeup, he would have seen a split second shift. The boy's prime essence, though dimming, had pulsed as if in defiance, sending a ripple throughout his body. This halted the advance of the poison, though only for a few seconds.
"Need it... the shield..."
The Wund boy's ramblings would trail off after that, and the poison would again proceed at its usual pace; though it almost appeared as if a portion of it had disappeared when the pulse shook through his body. Wind in the area would once more come to a calm, and any trace of essence manipulation had dispersed as well. From the other side of the room, growling could be heard emitting from the gargoyle, and its eyes were firmly locked on Davil now.
Sorry, some life stuff came up. I'll be able to get a post up tomorrow!
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