#kerrick

[xantchaslegacy]

[kerenitychan]

more things! for starters a whole lot of "me and the gang have been watching rick and morty" content

[letmelickyoureyeballs]

Amazing commission of Kerrick done by @cibguts! Look at my boy :D

[fieriframes]

[Oh, yeah. They're doing Lebanese food yet, nice Kerrick was scarier than Mean Kerrick. This is Laziz Kitchen.]

[nakeddeparture]

Stephany, mother of Kerrick Moodie, 20 and Keneisha Moodie, 22, already knows the outcome.

https://youtu.be/-zRF_C7VINY

She raised two scammers and a viral video shows them being buried in a shallow grave. What other outcome did anyone expect? Naked!!

Like. Share. Subscribe. Comment on YouTube.

[the-faramir]

Today seemed like any other day in the town square of Willowside. Townspeople milled about the shops, buying whatever foodstuffs and supplies the merchants had to sell.

Suddenly, calliope music started playing from one of the side streets. People turning to look saw a parade approaching the town square. At the forefront marched Midori, a kitsune woman with a red fox fur pattern and red hair, dressed in a green circus ringmaster's outfit complete with a green top hat. She carried a short staff resembling a stick of multicolored candy with a head resembling a snake's which she shifted up and down with the beat of the music, keeping the constituents of her parade in step.

Once the ringmaster stepped into the center of the town square, she gestured dismissively with her free hand and the entire parade faded into a green mist, leaving only Midori standing there as the calliope music continued.

She spoke with a magically amplified,  booming voice, reaching all in that part of town as if she were standing next to them.

"ANNNNNNND NOW, because we sailed all the way from Kerrick and we aim to entertain, we proudly announce tonight's performance of the only island-hoppin', xulgath-defeatin', carnivorous-plant-mulchin', demon-slayin', dinosaur-extinctin', ghost-bustin', aeon-stone-repairin', extinction-curse-liftin' circus in the Inner Sea, including THEEE VERRRY HEROESSS who brought Mistress Dusklight of the Celestial Menagerie to justice and freed those under her control: the CIRCUS OF WAYWARD WONNNNNNNDERRRRRS!"

Midori began to twirl her staff faster and faster in front of herself, finally tossing it high into the air and catching it deftly in her hands before it could hit the ground. She thrust the base of the staff into the ground, magically transforming it into a candy-striped ball python that started dancing to the music which began building dramatically as Midori prepared to sing.

🎵🎵🎵

Step right up, don't be shy, take a chance, Join the Circus of Wayward Wonders, be part of the dance. The ringmaster calls, with a voice so bold, "Buy your tickets now, let the marvels unfold!"

Come one, come all, to the grandest show in town, Where wonders await and smiles replace every frown. A spectacle of colors, where magic and reality blend, Axel's birds take flight, with sweets they descend.

The Dwarven Throwers, stout and brave, They soar through the air, the audience they crave. Elizia's serpents, a dance so divine, With Mr. Tickles, they twist and entwine.

Hear the music, feel the beat, in your heart, Magical Myrrie plays her part, a symphony to start. The Mystic Artists, with strokes so fine, Your dreams on canvas, in colors that shine.

In the center ring, the lights shine bright, Every act, a story, every performer a knight. The circus is more than a mere delight, It's a world of wonder, taking flight.

So gather 'round, the show's about to begin, The Circus of Wayward Wonders, where dreams spin. The ringmaster's song, a call to all who hear, "Come join the wonder, come join the cheer!"

🎵🎵🎵

Once the music had stopped, a few people in the square clapped politely. Midori took an over-exaggerated bow, picked up her snake, changed it back into a staff, and then meandered through the town square to sell tickets.

Surveying the crowds for potential buyers, Midori's attention caught on the brightly colored tail of...well, Midori wasn't quite sure. She—Midori initially thought the being was a "she," but rethought "perhaps 'they,' because it's better not to assume with an unknown being"—they certainly did not appear to be a local. Definitely, a sentient person of some sort as their eyes—all four—had a look of intelligence about them as they glanced about the town. They wore a humanoid-style top on their humanoid torso but had a snake-like tail similar to a nagaji's or lamia's. They also had horns, which were not unknown in the various forms of nagaji found across Golarion.

Midori sauntered over to the being to strike up a conversation. "Why hello, my good being! Not to be rude, not to make assumptions about you, but you appear to be from out of town. May I ask from where do you haii?" Midori's eyes widened as a grin crossed her face. "Are you in town for the circus? Have you heard about us in your homeland?"

@llixulia

[vorthosjay]

Phyrexian newts are said to look like genetically engineered humans, but what does that actually mean for skin, eye color, etc.? Does that change if they were born to a native Phyrexian parent?

Early Phyrexian Newts, or actually for the majority of the time original Phyrexia existed, they looked like ambiguous adolescents (see; Xantcha). When the Sleeper Agent program took off, they looked like regular people (Kerrick looked like a handsome man, before he became K’rrik).

They’re grown in cloning vats, not through biological reproduction. Outside of later sleeper agents they were identical for the most part.

[crithaus]

I think about the "I live as long as Whitestone lives," Percy and Keyleth conversation and I am going to attempt to spit my feelings out about it but be warned I am both horrible at expressing my feelings and for some reason my brain will understand the base information of something said and completely shit out on the subtleties even if it should be easy so here we go

Keyleth has at this point known she is going to live for fucking ever, even without the Aramente, at some point on her journey the end mechanics will give her Timeless Body and she will age 1 year for every 10 she lives or something close to that, She knows that at the end of their adventuring shell live for So Long and that gives her an inordinate amount of time to, to borrow from kerrick's letter, tend to her Gardens. The weight of that time and her burgeoning leadership weighs on her deeply but even now at her young age she's already distanced herself a little bit from the mortals around her because she really isn't one, she knows she'll have time to figure her problems out, she doesn't have to worry about short-term because hers is like centuries long. Her story is long enough and she doesn't need reminding of it.

Percy, for all his responsibility shirking and for all his 'dumps Whitestone's rule on Cass immediately' and for all his flightiness, is both keenly intune with Whitestone's short-term and so deeply invested in it and it's people and the concept of their short-term and how truly short it is and how little time they all have ahead of them and it brings a maturity and wisdom, a bit of natural leadership, out in him that he rarely lets show what with his "I am the only adult in any given room," mindset. You can always count on Keyleth to be the voice of reason of the two of them in any given situation but not so here.

Keyleth wants to focus on helping the people of Whitestone' in the bunker, on the practical matters, and Percy is busy immortalizing the story of Whitestone thus far into the stone around them, and Keyleth rolls her eyes a bit at that and yeah to focus on that, the impractical, the roses and the fluff and the 'bragging' while the world is crumbling around them, when death looms over with a shadow none of them can outrun, it does seem a little silly, but Percy is quick to bring her back down to earth, because while Percy's frailish frame will only last out the century maybe, his legacy has lived on for many, and will live on for many many more, and all the souls in whitestone are his legacy and him, his beating heart, and he is theirs and they have lived far before he did and will live on far after as will he. And to be human, to be Percy, is to garden the tiniest plot of living breathing soil imaginable all your life, but to do so with every ancestor and descendant he will ever have at his side, one tiny plot turning into a living, thriving landscape, something that will outlive you but that will always always carry you and all that makes you beautifully and wonderfully yourself in it, like weaving a quilt

But the quilt is Whitestone and every hand has a stitch in it, and some hands spin the thread and some move the shuttle and some gather the cloth into baskets and this tapestry contains blood and death and tears and heartache and a man sticking a flower in his wife's hair, and a baby being brought out under the snow for the first time, the first good harvest and the last winter's crest, and the briarwoods dancing through the ballroom with the floor slick with gore, and Percy and Cass and Vesper, Julius, Melanie, and Yennan and that unnamed little boy who picks up that chalk, Percy's been living longer than any of them and will outlive the lot of them I know because despite his young age and despite his numerous other shortcomings, despite that his heart was always and forever will be rooted right here in Whitestone, in the most little moment possible, it helped keep him alive in his deepest, darkest moments. Even now when the world is crumbling around them again, Percy is there and Whitestone's heart is still beating, it still lives and so does he at the new end of the world in the dearth of all magic. He himself is so very shortsighted and despite that, when it counted, he was still so cognizant of the greater good and the importance of what it means to be human and to tell stories, and hope, and to have those stories and that hope live on even in such dire, desperate straits so one day far off from now, someone will find a message from someone long since dead like "hey, hello! I lived here! I loved here, I mattered and so will you, and you'll know my story and perhaps you'll stay and tell your own." Just like the handprints on la Cueva de los Manos.

Just ARGH, he can be so mature when he wants to be. He'll be right besides Keyleth even if it doesn't feel like it until she takes her own last breath, She will not go into that good and gentle night alone and Percy was trying to tell her that in his own Percy-ish way.

[the-churroguy]

Omg! It’s here! The first chapter?!?!

So one thing I’m going to say. If you aren’t aware of who the Night Lords in 40k are: the worst. They are literally the worst. They should not be admired or looked up. They are assholes. In the worst way imaginable. Why am I writing shitty fanfic about them? Don’t ask question! Anyway, I do NOT ship the main male and female leads. They are NOT a wholesome couple. They aren’t even an item, I realize that won’t stop some of you, but please be warned that these two monsters are NOT NICE TO EACH OTHER.

Kerreck fiddled with the edge of his blood-stained lightning claws as he glanced through the red tinted goggles of his helmet. His eyes flicked left a hair's breadth as he took in the sight in front of him. Just barely visible above the egress zone of this accursed world were three more battle barges.

The first and most pronounced was ‘The Nexum Arcana’, an ancient warship hailing from the sons of Magnus; captained by Azariah, a skilled sorcerer, seconded by none save Ahriman himself. Across from it was ‘The Miasmic’, which was heralded by a war-band of plague marines being led by a powerful terminator captain simply named Locust. He supposedly took the name from one of his ‘grandfathers’ own never-born after slaying it in battle. Lastly, and most dreadful in Kerrek’s opinion, was ‘The Warmaster’s Requiem’ a battle barge belonging to Black Legion. It had been renamed by its captain, Talos Infernus, a Master of Possessions. The ship was renamed to pay tribute to their former primarch, the Luprechal.

Kerreck and his brothers’ war party were not here willingly, at least most of them were not. Their captain had lost sight of their fathers last wish, the Night Haunter’s dying command, and had chosen the path of ‘apotheosis’. This was no doubt spurred on by talks with either the Rubric or the Black Legionnaire, perhaps even both. He grumbled as he stared out of the viewport, still gently gliding his gauntleted hand over his lightning claws, “Hmmmph, demon-hood. As if it is to be some sort of honor.” If he had his helmet removed, he would have spit at the notion of ascension. He understood the ruinous powers of the dark gods, and the ‘gifts’ they could provide; but all, save perhaps Khorne, would trick their subordinates and cripple them or curse them for nothing more than entertainment. No, Kerrick wanted NOTHING to do with them.

“Perhaps…” a young female called up to him, followed by the sound of a whetstone grinding against metal, “The good captain and his guard are simply seeking to honor your father in this way?” There was a scratchy chuckle from her throat as soft pink eyes stared up at the Night Lord. “What better way to sow terror, fear and bloodshed across the materium than by becoming the monster of your own story?”

The female was in rudimentary armor, scraped together from plates of former guard members and scrap they had lying around in the dark belly of the barge. It was dingy, barely offering protection, but it was light, and quiet, allowing her to slip in and out of the shadows with ease. It stood in stark contrast with Kerreck’s own warplate. His armor was ancient, fierce and covered in a leathery, blood-soaked cowl of his favorite prey he had hunted. The Night Lord turned his head to face her; sneering beneath his face plate. This girl, barely on board their ship for a quarter of a century, had nerves of adamantine to address him so casually, even more so to assume his thoughts. But she wasn’t wrong, a monster is the only thing Kerreck could call his captain, Envrol Skavak. He had served the Night Haunter faithfully throughout the heresy, and had carried out their fathers will for three different crusades, but now… greed and power had poisoned his soul. His vision had become jaded by thoughts and spirits of the warp as he steered not only himself, but his entire company down this forsaken path.

“Have you completed your tasks, Sahar?” Kerreck inspected the ax blade in her hands. It was nearly as large as she was, and undoubtedly heavier, but she was able to maneuver the weapon with relative ease as she twirled it in her hands, the black of the handle nearly blending in perfectly with the ebony color of her matted hair.

A cruel smile curled around her lips as she offered Kerreck his weapon, bowing her head to hide her eyes, “Of course, lord. This one was tempted to test its edge against some of the slaves below deck. But she stopped at the thought of using her master's arms without his permission.”

“So there is still some wisdom in that malicious head of yours after all.” Kerreck scoffed and took the device. “That is good. I’d hate to kill you, girl. You’re the only human aboard this vessel who can truly appreciate a blade's purpose. I’d hate to have to train up another one of you.”

The girl giggled slightly, “This one shall do her best not to inconvenience her lord.” She straightened herself back out and brushed her hair out of her face, “Besides, she prefers the quiet blades, engines give away positions.” She rested her hand against the pommel of one of her machetes. “Have we been summoned yet?”

Kerreck tisked as he turned his faceplate to stare at her. His eyes peered into her soul as he reprimanded her, “Know your place, Sahar. You are my ward because I ALLOW it. But you are NOT part of this war band, you are NOT a Night Lord.”

Sahar’s expression dropped slightly. She knew she would never be an astartes, no matter how hard she trained herself, bruised herself, bled herself. She would never be at their rank. She bowed her head low, “Forgive this one's forwardness.”

Kerreck paused as perhaps a small tinge of regret lifted to the forefront of his mind, but he quickly shoved it back down. No time for sentimental weakness. “You are correct, however; the captain HAS called me up. You will accompany me, and we will see what fresh hell he has planned for the company. No doubt the makings of another crusade.”

Sahar leaned to the side as she looked up to Kerreck with curious eyes, as if she had forgotten that she had just been scolded by a Night Lord, “Perhaps the four of them wish to marshal favor with the war master?”

“Abaddon is beyond any of us.” Kerreck grumbled, “And the fact that you know his name is very… disturbing…”

Sahar giggled to herself as she followed alongside Kerreck, “This Lord talks in his sleep. Dreams of malice leak bits of information. She does her best to maintain knowledge for the sake of her lord.”

“Keep it to yourself, for both of our sakes.” Kerreck looked down to her, “Many of my brothers would relish the chance at us. And while you would never be able to stop them, you can certainly do your best to remain unnoticeable to them.” Kerreck turned to make his way towards the bridge.

—————————————————————

Sahar had never seen so many astartes assembled in one place; and there were so many different colors. The ones in gold trim seemed to strike her the most. She had never known metals could be so brightly polished. And they were shining. It almost hurt her eyes to stare at them for more than a few seconds. Hues of purple and blue danced around them. The warp ebbed into the cracks in the war plate and danced across the surfaces of their heraldry.

She caught her master's left hand shift slightly. Glancing up she saw his helmet slightly tilted towards her, a subtle sign that let her know she was staring. She took a half step back and pulled the dingy blue hood of her makeshift shawl over her head, wanting to remain as unseen as possible. She smiled a bit as she stepped back though. Other slaves aboard this ship were terrified of their masters, and rightfully so. The eighth legion was the most bloodthirsty of the corpse gods creations, perhaps even more so than the World Eaters. The twelfth legion shed the most blood physically, but they did so with ‘honor’ and ‘pride’, all to appease some god that would only cast them aside. Just as the corpse god had done to his sons. It was a pointless cycle to her. She and her master did not kill for honor, they did not do so to bask in the gifts of some heathen deity. They killed… simply because they could, and they were GOOD at it.

The girl snapped back to reality as she listened to the meeting. The captains were all arguing over the war plan. Another thing Saharr and her master hated about these joint efforts with the cousin legions. Planning and logistics and rituals and… Sahar had to hold back a groan as she stared out of the viewport. She was getting anxious, ‘and if SHE is anxious…’ she looked up to her lord; ‘HE was bordering on insanity.’

———————————————————————

Kerreck was certain that if his teeth had not been filed down and reinforced from his geneseed, they would have been ground to dust by now. His eyes darted between Locust and Azariah:

The terminator stepped forward, “Speak carefully sorcerer. My armor may not bear the shine of yours. But the powers of the grandfather, as well as the endurance of my own strength will see that I am alive LONG after you and your brothers are reduced to dust…” he looked Azariah up and down, “… again…” Venom dripped off of that last jab as Locust reminded the Thousand Sons captain of their legions greatest failure and subsequent curse.

The sorcerer responded quickly as his staff tapped the ground as roaring blue fire erupted from his hand, “Mind your tongue, you walking pile of refuse.” Azariah hissed, “Your foul bodies may be immortal, but a snap of my fingers will see that entire ship ripped apart in the darkest realms of the warp as demons feast upon your putrid souls.”

The terminator’s autocannon began to cycle on his right arm. But ultimately, it was Talos who had the final words, “Brothers, please.” He reached out and touched both of their chests, “We already have so few allies. We can scarce afford to lose what little we have in the materium. Besides, you forget we are ALL guests to our host, Skavak.”

A Night Lord captain, draped in leathery capes and skull-embossed armor plating, slowly crept from the shadows as he stared at each of them. “He is correct, you two. You stand in MY ship, surrounded by MY honor guard.”

Locust huffed, “Some guard, you merely keep a handful of Talons aboard this bridge.”

“Those are the ones you are ALLOWED to see. Do not forget my filthy friend, the Raven kin are not the ONLY ones who can hide in shadows. Now then, this debate.”

Talos bowed lightly, “Yes, noble lord. We are ready for the next step. Perhaps an explanation?”

Skavak nodded and looked at the plague marine. “I will not deny the power you hold, ancient one. But your grandfather's gifts will not serve me or my company as we haunt the galaxy.” He motioned towards the Miasmic. “However, they WILL serve as an invaluable shield against whatever Imperial reinforcements arrive at the mention of this planet's downfall. My gift to you is that. Whoever you wish to capture and claim during the fight for your purposes will go unchallenged by the rest of us.”

Locust went to protest, but he could see it in Talos’ stance that there would be no further negotiations of his cause beyond this, “Very well. But heed my warning, Envrol. The Great Changer is not as… merciful… to failure as Nergul.”

“Do you believe any amongst the eighth legion are prospects for mercy?” Skavak raised an eyebrow.

“I have said what all I will say.” Locust turned to leave, a noxious cloud following behind him like an opaque cloak.

The rancidness of his armor made Sahar gag as she had to bite her tongue and hold her breath just to keep herself from vomiting across the decks. Once he had departed, she turned her hidden gaze back to the Black Legionnaire.

“And for the three of us?” Azariah asked, “What shall be our goals here?”

“Tzeentch and Khorne…” Talos smiled, stealing a quick glance to Sahar as if he could almost read her thoughts. “The two brothers have always been in an ebb and flow for the champion of the great game. The blood god detests all things arcane, while the Great Changer is disgusted by Khorne’s… straightforward… tactics.”

Envrol growled, “And yet, you claim they will both accept me as their champion? This doesn’t make sense to my mind.”

“You are a CAPTAIN of the Night Lords.” Talos raised his voice, but not in derision or condescension, but rather as a sort of praise, “A true son of Kurze, the Night Haunter. Your armies wade through torrents of blood and death. The War god hates spellcasting, but apotheosis is something he is no stranger to. And your deeds here will cement your claim. As for the Keeper of Knowledge…” Talon turned to face Azariah.

The rubric nodded and took a half step forward, “Tzeentch is above all else, curious. He craves knowledge, and the idea of a merging demon prince between him and his brother may anger him, but his curiosity will win over. It can be done.”

Sahar caught something just there, as the sorcerer spoke. A slight pause, a fraction of a second in looking back to the Night Lord Captain. He was lying. A scheme was brewing between the two arcane masters. Skavak might very well achieve apotheosis, but he would no longer be the one pulling the strings.

“Very well.” Envrol nodded, “Nine days. We will lay waste to this world for nine days. Eight monuments are to be erected as we take the hive sectors to venerate the blood god, around each monument we will inscribe the whispers of Tzeentch. The blood will appease the one, while the knowledge claimed by this world slakes the other.” Envrol looked to Kerreck, “Prepare your brothers. When shadow falls across the planet. You will strike.”

———————————————————————

[ohpollenpowder]

Five parts now for the [VS] (NA) party! Lemme know if yours is here!!! We also had a return of the Charr Wall; my first time seeing it and it was lovely~

Kunalla [RP] @golden-golem Siffe The Lost [RP] Caldus Swiftstorm [BRUH] Ellie Rourke [Star] Saelhkii [Star] @starlightsuncrow Ka Raska Veillie [FoF] @inquest-toolshed

Alba Moonseeker @sylvaridreams Maelgwyyn [DraW] Lochlan Of Night [CC]

Antonymph [ily] @kralkatorrik Vesnia Swiftreign [CC] Juno Spiritshatter [ily] Kerrick Ashgrave Eon Nightfang [SPCE] Korok Roanfur [UmP] Laika Blindwraith Ka Raska Garrus Firstblood [OOPS] @wall-legion Luka Keen [FOOL] Ribbon Steelhide Sparrow Quickdraw [ily] @moonlit-grove (& Remnant of Life) Artificer Lucasta @catmanderratmander Morrigan Sharpfang [FRST] Ari Stormshield [BUS] Redaar Steelhide [COLD] Zahida Echoflame [AUX] Song In Flight Glyndwr Lennox [MADS]

[six-improbable-things]

I like to think Kerrick killing Raishan is the start of the "Guests always kill the bosses" chain that was going strong by the time they got to campaign 2.

[kerenitychan]

[letmelickyoureyeballs]

Werewolf Refs

Meet my new boy Kerrick! He’s got his original more complicated design to the left and a more simplified version to the right done by the continuously talented @spydrrr!

I like to imagine his left one for when he’s older

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Ask Me Anything 3 -- Malas

If you could leave the school, what’s the first place you would visit?

I would like to go to the beach. It’s been a very long time since I’ve been exposed to direct sunlight, or put my toes in the ocean.

Were you from a mage family?

Yes. I was a Kerrick, once upon a time.

What do you think is the greatest or coolest scientific (or magical) discovery to be made in your lifetime? (Not counting medical advancements)

Well, I don’t really keep up with non-medical technology, but probably the internet. That seems to have been pretty impactful.

What color were your eyes before?

Dark brown.

What would you do if you hadn’t been chosen by the spells?

Well, I was chosen by them because I was apprenticing to be a doctor. So… I would simply have become a doctor.

How many apprentices the spells killed after your master died, before it picked you?

Twelve. I was the thirteenth try.

Would you sacrifice yourself if this means to save the world?

Logically, wouldn’t anyone? One cannot live without a world, after all.

If you could turn back time, would you still choose to be the most powerful doctor in the world working with teenagers forever?

I don’t believe in harbouring regrets for things you cannot change, so I see no point in entertaining this question.

Between the current teens in Haven, who is more likely to lose an arm?

Kevin Spline. NO sense of risk awareness.

Although realistically, probably one of the younger invocation mages. Every few years somebody overreaches and burns their hand or foot off or something.

Who is the person you care the most for?

Hard to say. I care for a lot of people. Alania’s probably the most likely to get herself hurt, among the people I care for.

What are you feeling towards the council? Do you think they are really needed? Or better, do you think they are the best way to deal with society?

They ARE the society. You are asking me if I think the stones at the base of a pyramid are needed.

[bumblebeeappletree]

We meet Professor Kingsley Dixon, AO, a botanist whose devotion to science has transformed our understanding of native plant cultivation.

He lives on a 160-acre garden and bush block south of Perth, in the Darling Range. This is the passion project of Professor Dixon, an internationally recognised botanist who revolutionised native plant cultivation and is now cultivating a botanic garden of his own. Kingsley, his husband Lionel, and their dog, Rufus, have been working on this historic garden for almost 10 years, lovingly restoring the 12 acres of formal gardens, amassing collections of native and exotic plants, and observing the unique wet temperate forest surrounding it.

Kingsley has decades of important contributions to plant science in Australia, and created the Science and Research department at Kings Park, which he helmed for 32 years. Most notably, he led the team that discovered it was not heat or ash from a bushfire that stimulated the germination of so many Australian plants, but chemicals found in the smoke. This year, he was recognised for his contribution to Australian plant science, receiving an Officer of the Order of Australia (AO). He was also Western Australia's Scientist of the Year in 2016, and was featured in David Attenborough’s BBC Private Life of Plants documentary series.

Kingsley grew up in Bayswater, in the eastern suburbs of Perth. ‘My family loved gardening but we were really working class. My dad was a tractor driver but he collected water lilies, we were always building lily ponds!’ His family were largely unaware of native plants though, as were many people at the time.

"My first experience working with native plants was in the summer holidays of 1965/1966. I was 12 years old and had nothing to do, so I would sit in the car with my father while he worked as a bulldozer driver for the rubbish dump. Every day, we drove by a sign for Wyemando Native Plant Nursery, and I finally built up the courage to ask him to drop me off there in the morning and pick me up on his way home from work. I walked into this nursery and asked if I could help out."

The two sisters who ran it, Nancy and Susan Harper, begrudgingly obliged, and his mind was opened to the wonderful world of native plant cultivation.

"Working there exposed me to extraordinary diversity that impressed me so much. I wanted to find magical places that they talked about seeing and collecting plants." This obsession motivated him through his studies.

Along with a team of colleagues from Kings Park and the Universities, he undertook an 11-year study to identify the specific chemical in smoke that is responsible for germination. More than 4000 chemicals in smoke were analysed. This led to the discovery in 2004 of a new class of molecules that they named karrikinolides, after the Noongar word for smoke, ‘Kerrick’. Karrikinolides were the first new class of plant growth regulation hormones discovered in 30 years, and are now used in the common horticultural product, smokewater. "Few other single ecological findings have had such a profound impact across so many areas of Australian ecology.’"

Kingsley has also led significant research in the study and cultivation of native terrestrial orchids. He was one of the scientists who studied the link between orchids and their mycorrhizal fungi, which are crucial to their growth. In the field as well, he was the first to describe at least 3 species of orchid, and Caleana dixonii, the Sandplain Duck Orchid, was first identified by and later named after him.

His research now largely focuses on rebuilding landscapes, such as mine site rehabilitation.

At home, he is also excited to have grown one of Western Australia’s rarest plants, a carnivorous aquatic species called the Waterwheel Plant that traps small insects and animals in the water.

Filmed on Pindjarup Country in Waroona, WA