But who would spend a moment on even the most gorgeous vista in (HP, Mana, Spell) land, when you can enjoy fulfilling XP--feel it diffuse through your veins--in the cloister? A script with the correct behaviour would sell all your huge tracts of land in HMS Space--'tis an unweeded garden--and plant kernels in the greenhouse of the Monastery. There if they grow, the harvest is your own--for, else, who would bear the whips and scorns of tye, the net's delay, and the spurns that patient newbie of the unworthy takes? O, my mana for one more drop of XP. One more. Please.