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Levia and Mae in combat for Most Absolutely Precious Horror.
A little late, a little long, but never fear, for a post is here!
@The Irish Tree
@Guess Who
@Lugubrious
@Stern Algorithm
@Lucius Cypher
@The Irish Tree
@Guess Who
@Lugubrious
@Stern Algorithm
@Lucius Cypher
Faetalis listened intently, carefully. From the sound of it, everyone had gotten off in different degrees of severity; some were merely scraped and bruised, while others were put near to ruin. In her mind, it was necessary to restore internal means of supply; that meant getting food and power back in working order. “First things first, we need to restore power and supply to Mae's Factory,” Faetalis announced, “In times of strife, there is nothing more important than hot food and running water. In order to do that, I'm likely going to have to cannibalize unattended factories... that means, destroying the homes of our friends.”
Faetalis allowed time for reactions, before she cleared her throat, and set to it. “These are your orders, henceforth,” she says, steeling herself to destroy years of struggle in wars that built and tested friendships she thought lifelong. Accessing her maintenance terminal, she brought up a 3-D map of Infactorium, and all but their working factories lit up red, “Levia. Gammatron. All highlighted factories are to be recycled into components - that means, do not melt them, Levia - and, do so from the apex to the foundation; leave naught a single tile nor rivet. Take all organic material to Mae and all inorganic material to Tungsten.”
Faetalis turned to the two in question, “Mae, immediately start to process all organic material brought to you into whatever food you can with exceptional shelf life. Jerky. Rations. MREs. I don't care about the taste, as long as it's the utmost best quality you can provide and will last us for a while,” she says, “Tungsten, and Cormac, you are to take the inorganic material are start repairs - however, Tungsten, you have a technological advantage over Cormac's traditional means. As such, you are to split tasks according to your strengths. Tungsten, you will handle all electronic wiring and cabling, whole Cormac will handle construction lacking technological prowess.”
“As for myself,” Faetalis turned to her maintenance terminal, “I'm going to scout what lies beyond the ridges. If I'm not returned by sundown, do not deviate from your tasks to find me until you are all finished. Then, and only then, are you to leave Infactorium unguarded to seek me out.”
“This seems to be our new home, now. Strange, but familiar. Regardless, you have your orders. Go, as Overseers of Infactorium, and complete them.”
Faetalis waited for everyone to leave on her dismissal, before she looked to MinMaxine, and took a look at her through her HUD, and saw the same status affliction, [Comatose] and her HP static at 1. “What is going on with you, Max. Everyone else is awake, and you're out with this status I've never seen before...” she laments, as she set MinMaxine on the maintainence terminal, and looked to the exterior cameras. There was nothing on the horizon in all directions, but rock. “This couldn't be more difficult. I'm setting off, Max. Hopefully, you'll wake up soon...” she sighed, before setting off to the Western Gate, and looking to the middle distance.
Stepping back into her heels, she took it all in. All of it. Minutes expanded to hours, mentally, as she tried to rationalize it from top to bottom. “Infactorium exists. The Overseers exist. My magic exists. This must be YO, right?” Faetalis asks herself, as she focused her eyes on the world; her HUD materialized, and information scanned in - mostly to tell her the dirt was, indeed, made of dirt. However, that was unimportant. Her HUD still existed. “I have to be in YO, somehow. Not the Alpha Release, but some Beta Release, or a junker copy on a pirated server,” Faetalis told herself, needing to believe that she was still human, still an avatar, and not her avatar, and not inhuman.
Faetalis needed to be able to believe she was still a plain, forty-two-year-old woman that worked a 9-to-5, dead end, wage slave "accounting job" as a sidetracker of dirty money for the local Yakuza; boring woman with a calm head on her shoulders and the sense to keep her month silent, so she could continue to afford an upper middle-class existence and the eventful luxury of her second life in YGGDRASIL Online nightly, unlike some of her old guildmates in less "fortunate" circumstances.
As long as she continued to believe she was in some pre-Alpha Release version of 'YGGDRASIL Online: Valkyrie Downfall', Faetalis could carry on with that same calm that saw dozens of GvG victories and thousands of won Skirmishes. She just needed to do something bigger than reality would allow.
Incite Genesis.
Focusing, Faetalis set her heels apart, and spread her legs, as she clapped her hands together, and took a power stance...
“[Craft Senses: Life Seeker] [Craft Senses: Magic Hunter] [Craft Self: Hollow Bones] [Craft Self: Tyrant Muscle] [Craft Self: Tyrant Scales] [Craft Form: Tyrant Wings] [Craft Form: Tyrant Tail]” Faetalis ran through a list of crafting spells that did little in seperation, unless crafted together with her [Divine Artisan] Class.
“[Divine Artisan Synthesis: Tyrant Dragon Haven, King of Haven Skies]”
And, given life with her [Genesis] Class.
“[Rebirth: Genesis]”
Locking the blessed crafting into place, Faetalis flooded herself with magic, and her skin opened to a mass exodus of metal and wood - simple bronze and fir wood - that cocooned around her as a trembling mess of planks, wires, plates, rivets, and screws. After a minute, a massive leg exploded from a side, and slammed into the ground; draconic in nature, taller than a house, and wider than a tree. Another joined it, and the cocoon trembled, before lengthening and widening in mass, and presence - a giant head like that of a pit viper crossed with an alligator burst free with a proportionally massive tail that slammed into the ground. The final piece surfaced, as wings as long as the torso best free of the shoulder blades, and buffeted the surroundings with gale-force wings.
Stripped of all but her core body, Faetalis was fused into her craft as its heart; from her knees and elbows down, her skyclad form hung as a sentient power source and pilot of the YGGDRASIL Online Lv80 Guild Raid Dragon Boss - many times defeated, and now, recreated at a meager third of his true power.
Still, it was enough to accomplish her goal, three-fold, to scout the surrounding area, create an efficient deterrent - if needed - and prove she was still within the logical confines of her video game of choice.
She just had to find a way to logout.
Dropped into her haunches, Faetalis launched into the air without a sound...
Faetalis allowed time for reactions, before she cleared her throat, and set to it. “These are your orders, henceforth,” she says, steeling herself to destroy years of struggle in wars that built and tested friendships she thought lifelong. Accessing her maintenance terminal, she brought up a 3-D map of Infactorium, and all but their working factories lit up red, “Levia. Gammatron. All highlighted factories are to be recycled into components - that means, do not melt them, Levia - and, do so from the apex to the foundation; leave naught a single tile nor rivet. Take all organic material to Mae and all inorganic material to Tungsten.”
Faetalis turned to the two in question, “Mae, immediately start to process all organic material brought to you into whatever food you can with exceptional shelf life. Jerky. Rations. MREs. I don't care about the taste, as long as it's the utmost best quality you can provide and will last us for a while,” she says, “Tungsten, and Cormac, you are to take the inorganic material are start repairs - however, Tungsten, you have a technological advantage over Cormac's traditional means. As such, you are to split tasks according to your strengths. Tungsten, you will handle all electronic wiring and cabling, whole Cormac will handle construction lacking technological prowess.”
“As for myself,” Faetalis turned to her maintenance terminal, “I'm going to scout what lies beyond the ridges. If I'm not returned by sundown, do not deviate from your tasks to find me until you are all finished. Then, and only then, are you to leave Infactorium unguarded to seek me out.”
“This seems to be our new home, now. Strange, but familiar. Regardless, you have your orders. Go, as Overseers of Infactorium, and complete them.”
Faetalis waited for everyone to leave on her dismissal, before she looked to MinMaxine, and took a look at her through her HUD, and saw the same status affliction, [Comatose] and her HP static at 1. “What is going on with you, Max. Everyone else is awake, and you're out with this status I've never seen before...” she laments, as she set MinMaxine on the maintainence terminal, and looked to the exterior cameras. There was nothing on the horizon in all directions, but rock. “This couldn't be more difficult. I'm setting off, Max. Hopefully, you'll wake up soon...” she sighed, before setting off to the Western Gate, and looking to the middle distance.
Stepping back into her heels, she took it all in. All of it. Minutes expanded to hours, mentally, as she tried to rationalize it from top to bottom. “Infactorium exists. The Overseers exist. My magic exists. This must be YO, right?” Faetalis asks herself, as she focused her eyes on the world; her HUD materialized, and information scanned in - mostly to tell her the dirt was, indeed, made of dirt. However, that was unimportant. Her HUD still existed. “I have to be in YO, somehow. Not the Alpha Release, but some Beta Release, or a junker copy on a pirated server,” Faetalis told herself, needing to believe that she was still human, still an avatar, and not her avatar, and not inhuman.
Faetalis needed to be able to believe she was still a plain, forty-two-year-old woman that worked a 9-to-5, dead end, wage slave "accounting job" as a sidetracker of dirty money for the local Yakuza; boring woman with a calm head on her shoulders and the sense to keep her month silent, so she could continue to afford an upper middle-class existence and the eventful luxury of her second life in YGGDRASIL Online nightly, unlike some of her old guildmates in less "fortunate" circumstances.
As long as she continued to believe she was in some pre-Alpha Release version of 'YGGDRASIL Online: Valkyrie Downfall', Faetalis could carry on with that same calm that saw dozens of GvG victories and thousands of won Skirmishes. She just needed to do something bigger than reality would allow.
Incite Genesis.
Focusing, Faetalis set her heels apart, and spread her legs, as she clapped her hands together, and took a power stance...
“[Craft Senses: Life Seeker] [Craft Senses: Magic Hunter] [Craft Self: Hollow Bones] [Craft Self: Tyrant Muscle] [Craft Self: Tyrant Scales] [Craft Form: Tyrant Wings] [Craft Form: Tyrant Tail]” Faetalis ran through a list of crafting spells that did little in seperation, unless crafted together with her [Divine Artisan] Class.
“[Divine Artisan Synthesis: Tyrant Dragon Haven, King of Haven Skies]”
And, given life with her [Genesis] Class.
“[Rebirth: Genesis]”
Locking the blessed crafting into place, Faetalis flooded herself with magic, and her skin opened to a mass exodus of metal and wood - simple bronze and fir wood - that cocooned around her as a trembling mess of planks, wires, plates, rivets, and screws. After a minute, a massive leg exploded from a side, and slammed into the ground; draconic in nature, taller than a house, and wider than a tree. Another joined it, and the cocoon trembled, before lengthening and widening in mass, and presence - a giant head like that of a pit viper crossed with an alligator burst free with a proportionally massive tail that slammed into the ground. The final piece surfaced, as wings as long as the torso best free of the shoulder blades, and buffeted the surroundings with gale-force wings.
Stripped of all but her core body, Faetalis was fused into her craft as its heart; from her knees and elbows down, her skyclad form hung as a sentient power source and pilot of the YGGDRASIL Online Lv80 Guild Raid Dragon Boss - many times defeated, and now, recreated at a meager third of his true power.
Still, it was enough to accomplish her goal, three-fold, to scout the surrounding area, create an efficient deterrent - if needed - and prove she was still within the logical confines of her video game of choice.
She just had to find a way to logout.
Dropped into her haunches, Faetalis launched into the air without a sound...
Alright, not my best, but it's been one hell of a week and I spent Friday and Saturday with my desktop down, after getting Windows 10 installed Friday morning.
However, Faetalis's CS is up, and we should be steady rolling - unless something else blows up in my life... >.>
@The Irish Tree
@Guess Who
@Lugubrious
@Stern Algorithm
@Lucius Cypher
However, Faetalis's CS is up, and we should be steady rolling - unless something else blows up in my life... >.>
@The Irish Tree
@Guess Who
@Lugubrious
@Stern Algorithm
@Lucius Cypher
Faetalis was embarrassed for a moment, as Tungsten gathered her into his arms; his massive body dwarfed hers, imposing and immense, yet his actions were the purest opposite of. Instead, the Battle Bard cradled her in his arms of steel, and warmed her soul with song, as he started to heal her injuries and clear her mind of pain. However, it was slowly lulling her to sleep, as well, from the overwhelming comfort that she was experiencing.
If not for intrusion of other members, she would have probably fallen completely asleep. Drowsily, her eyes opened to take in the sight of Levia, Gammaton, and Mae. “Cormac is missing,” she croaked, as her brain kicked back on; trundling along the path to recalling her situation. It was with a fierce scrambled, and a hellfire red dusting upon her cheeks, that she extracted herself from Tungsten’s bedside manner. “Th-Thank you, Tungsten Jazz. I-I am we-well enough, now,” she stammered.
Not the best first impression in this current state of being.
“I’m sure everyone is more than curious about our current state of affairs,” Faetalis started, clearing her throat. “It would seem we’ve been trans - Ah, Cormac, punctual as always, I see,” Faetalis took in the lumbering Blacksmith; a man harkened to her own trade, but satisfied to ply it in the more traditional means. A simple nod in acknowledgement was all she needed to carry on.
Infactorium, in spite of her attempts, was gathered, now, in its full power...
“As I was saying,” Faetalis picked up where she left off, “I am unsure how, but we’ve been transferred - not teleported, as I can’t sense transient magic - to a new world of some sort,” she says, allowing a moment of silence to take it all in. “Here is what I know...”
Faetalis extended her hands, and they split open into a messy tangle of metal-coated wood, carbon fiber wires, and shimmering, silver goo that reeked of magic. “My magic still functions,” she says, as she directed the wires and the goo into a form of a door-like construction. “However, I can’t draw on the full range of it. I can’t open a Gate. However,” she deconstructed the door into a puddle, and formed that into a rocket launcher that crackled with balls of fire, as she hefted it, “I can use low-Tier magic like Fireball, and even enhance this with Metamagics.”
Faetalis sucked the launcher back into her hands, and wiped her goopy blood onto her cheeks. “So, this is what we need to start with,” she says, “How have you all been affected?”
If not for intrusion of other members, she would have probably fallen completely asleep. Drowsily, her eyes opened to take in the sight of Levia, Gammaton, and Mae. “Cormac is missing,” she croaked, as her brain kicked back on; trundling along the path to recalling her situation. It was with a fierce scrambled, and a hellfire red dusting upon her cheeks, that she extracted herself from Tungsten’s bedside manner. “Th-Thank you, Tungsten Jazz. I-I am we-well enough, now,” she stammered.
Not the best first impression in this current state of being.
“I’m sure everyone is more than curious about our current state of affairs,” Faetalis started, clearing her throat. “It would seem we’ve been trans - Ah, Cormac, punctual as always, I see,” Faetalis took in the lumbering Blacksmith; a man harkened to her own trade, but satisfied to ply it in the more traditional means. A simple nod in acknowledgement was all she needed to carry on.
Infactorium, in spite of her attempts, was gathered, now, in its full power...
“As I was saying,” Faetalis picked up where she left off, “I am unsure how, but we’ve been transferred - not teleported, as I can’t sense transient magic - to a new world of some sort,” she says, allowing a moment of silence to take it all in. “Here is what I know...”
Faetalis extended her hands, and they split open into a messy tangle of metal-coated wood, carbon fiber wires, and shimmering, silver goo that reeked of magic. “My magic still functions,” she says, as she directed the wires and the goo into a form of a door-like construction. “However, I can’t draw on the full range of it. I can’t open a Gate. However,” she deconstructed the door into a puddle, and formed that into a rocket launcher that crackled with balls of fire, as she hefted it, “I can use low-Tier magic like Fireball, and even enhance this with Metamagics.”
Faetalis sucked the launcher back into her hands, and wiped her goopy blood onto her cheeks. “So, this is what we need to start with,” she says, “How have you all been affected?”
Just giving a heads up that I'mma start working on Sunday's post Friday evening, so no-one is caught unawares. As such, the current state of the scene is going to be locked into place, so we can get back on cycle, unless you can guarantee a post by Saturday evening.
My work load is starting to even back out, thankfully. So, I shouldn't have any problems in the foreseeable future.
@The Irish Tree
@Guess Who
@Lugubrious
@Stern Algorithm
@Lucius Cypher
My work load is starting to even back out, thankfully. So, I shouldn't have any problems in the foreseeable future.
@The Irish Tree
@Guess Who
@Lugubrious
@Stern Algorithm
@Lucius Cypher
Gunna try and restart the post cycle this week, so anyone that wants to post can still do so until Sunday. I'm less than 5-1/2 hours short of a 50 hour work week, and I still have a 8 - probably, 8-1/2 - shift ahead of me.
Yesterday was my first legitimate day of rest, so I didn't do anything. Rollicking good start to this, I know. Hopefully, this week, everything stabilizes, and life returns to nominal once more.
Oh, the unbridled joys of being low-level management.
Yesterday was my first legitimate day of rest, so I didn't do anything. Rollicking good start to this, I know. Hopefully, this week, everything stabilizes, and life returns to nominal once more.
Oh, the unbridled joys of being low-level management.
Well, here's the good news on posts: I really like everyone's varied characters and personality types show so far - shoutouts to the Warframe reference from Tungsten, and love the Mae's Comedy Wait Staff; Gamma and Levia feel like they would be sisters, and Cormac feels like he is the grumpy old man everyone loves to mess with, and totally not Andre of Astora.
Definitely going to make for an interesting cast, especially when it comes to outside interactions.
Now, the bad news: Pretty much the entire night staff at my job was put on 10-day exclusion, because one of our managers is your classic, dumb teenager who would rather party every night than do her job, and got Corona, which put everyone she interacted with on cautionary exclusion.
As such, my job closes every night at 8 PM, right now, and I'm probably going into work, at least, every shift at 7 AM. My brain is shorted out, right now, from a 10-1/2 hour work shift with little food, no rest, and a lot of organic fruit juice.
I will try and maintain the weekly deadline, however, and I am working on a post, but, in the meantime, everyone is free to post as you like until you reach The Office of External Affairs.
Sorry this is so sudden.
@The Irish Tree
@Guess Who
@Lugubrious
@Stern Algorithm
@Lucius Cypher
Definitely going to make for an interesting cast, especially when it comes to outside interactions.
Now, the bad news: Pretty much the entire night staff at my job was put on 10-day exclusion, because one of our managers is your classic, dumb teenager who would rather party every night than do her job, and got Corona, which put everyone she interacted with on cautionary exclusion.
As such, my job closes every night at 8 PM, right now, and I'm probably going into work, at least, every shift at 7 AM. My brain is shorted out, right now, from a 10-1/2 hour work shift with little food, no rest, and a lot of organic fruit juice.
I will try and maintain the weekly deadline, however, and I am working on a post, but, in the meantime, everyone is free to post as you like until you reach The Office of External Affairs.
Sorry this is so sudden.
@The Irish Tree
@Guess Who
@Lugubrious
@Stern Algorithm
@Lucius Cypher
I probably should have mentioned this way earlier, but I'mma try and keep this to a weekly deadline; not heavily enforced, as my work life is in a current state of chaos, but I wanna try and have everyone's post on by Friday or Saturday, so I can post the following Sunday or Monday.
Hopefully, that structure will help with a consistent flow.
@The Irish Tree
@Guess Who
@Lugubrious
@Stern Algorithm
@Lucius Cypher
Hopefully, that structure will help with a consistent flow.
@The Irish Tree
@Guess Who
@Lugubrious
@Stern Algorithm
@Lucius Cypher
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