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2 mos ago
Current Goodbye Miura. One of my favorite fantasy authors of all time has gone too soon.
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Berserk's coming back from hiatus! It's a miracle!
1 yr ago
Don't forget, they made another new hero named Screentime. A meme loving superhero who got his powers from exposure to internet gas. He has the ability to basically be a smart phone.
1 yr ago
Sometimes I open up a new tab on my browser and I forget what I intended to do with it... What am I doing here again?
2 yrs ago
When did I do that?


Most Recent Posts

Blue Sky Chronicles:

> I thought maybe this island my character comes from is relatively small compared to most other islands. Like the size of a small city. Because of this, the people there had very little in terms of resources, and they had difficulty trading with their neighbors since they had barely anything to give. So eventually the island began to focus on conquest. With what little resources they had, they were able to successfully invade one of their neighbors and take their natural resources for themselves, increasing their armies and navies and claiming their trade routes. Getting greedy, they would then continue doing this, invading more and more islands and taking them for themselves. And with each island they successfully invaded, they would literally chain it to whichever other island in their empire was closest. So now this empire is like this large web of islands held together by literal giant chains.

This next idea isn't as concrete yet, but was thinking maybe this empire gained the disapproval of their eidolon from this, to the point that no one now even remembers what the empire's original eidolon was or what its powers were. So when my character decides to leave the empire, he actually reconnects to this lost eidolon and is essentially it's last champion kind of thing.
Cormac perked up from his position near the window as he heard Faetalis speak. He had believed himself alone, so the sudden sound of a voice had surprised him, though not enough to make him startled or jump from his seat. One would need to try much, much harder to scare a giant such as him.

"Restless?" he asked, followed by a nod of his head. "Yes. Yes, restless would be a good way to describe it. I'm not used to this feeling. Usually, B;oodAndGuts93 would give me a task to perform and I would do it until I was given another. I know there were moments of inactivity. Times when I was given nothing to do until he returned, but..." The blacksmith had a look in his eyes, as if he was staring right through woman while looking back to the years he existed before coming here. And yet, he couldn't seem to recall a thing.

"Ignore me." Cormac finally said. "Just me old age catching up with me." A shrug of his shoulders and whatever weight that had been on his mind had been lifted. If only Faetalis could so easily toss away her worries as this giant. "Got a new task for me? I'm sick of feeling like I'm contributing so little."
After several minutes of searching, Cormac would come to realize that Faetalis had already left Infactorium. In fact, it seemed that he was alone with nothing else but Tungsten's Cyber Skeletons. He considered that perhaps later, when the others returned, he would make a remark about leaving him behind without notice. However, even he realized that it was no one's fault but his own that he hadn't noticed any summons. Best to avoid bringing the whole thing up instead.

Cormac would take a seat at a nearby window, looking out upon the distant lights. It was doubtless that the others left to investigate them. Did they need his help? Should he go and grab his sword and spear? Charge toward the invaders and join the fray? Or would that only make things worse? Would he unknowingly ruin any plans the Overseer of overseers had made and only make things worse? The answer was obvious, to wait until he was given a sign to make a move, but it didn't make the waiting any more bearable.

Rising from his seat, the giant would begin to pace around the room, his restlessness rising without anything to keep his hands busy. However, in case anything went wrong, he wanted to be able to see it from this chosen perch, meaning he couldn't return to The Mór Brionnú where he wouldn't be able to see a thing. With a 'hrumph' he looked back out into the unknown outside and peered into the darkness, trying to see if there was anything he could make out.
Time passed... A lot of time... Oodles and oodles of time. Honestly, Cormac hadn't a clue how much time. For more time than he realized, he had been doing his best to turn what should have been scrap metal for Tungsten's domain into it's original purpose as a piece to a large boiler. No one but him would have probably been able to figure out that's what it had been, but somehow, through a long process of hammering and heating, he had returned it to it's original shape. For the most part. There was one small dent that really wasn't going to reduce the boiler's efficiency, but it could easily be ignored by anyone sane. Something the giant lacked.

Wham! "No," he grumbled. Turning it over, he slammed his hammer down on the opposite side to flatten the curve, only to return it back to how it had been the previous smack. Wham! Another grumble, another disappointed, "No."

Finally though, he'd find the perfect amount of strength to get the job done, and with the help of a Cyber Skeleton or two who just so happened to be walking by, reapplied the piece where it belonged. Only then would he notice the lights in the distance that the rest of Infactorium's occupants had already seen and discussed without him. At first, he chose to ignore it, intent on finding something else to fix and busy his hands with. Recalling though how their home had devolved into its current state, Cormac found himself mumbling to himself as he went about looking for Faetalis, wanting to hear what instructions she might have for him.

Any comments she might have on his being so fashionably late were well-deserved, if/whenever he managed to track her down.
Tungsten wouldn't be the only one looking after his Cyber Skeletons as they went about walking into danger. Several times, Cormac found them walking across unstable ground, soon crushed by collapsing debris, or noticing a fire and deciding that the quickest path to the tools they needed to douse it would be straight through the flames. Every so often, the old blacksmith found himself pushing the automatons back from whatever danger they were throwing themselves at with one hand, as he tried to fix whatever it was with the other. At least they didn't break when they took a wrong step into a pit that obstructed their path thanks to their Heavy Impact ability. If they did take orders from other Overseers like himself, it never occurred to Cormac to try and give them any to prevent them throwing themselves at a problem until it was fixed. Chalk it up to his familiarity more with gears and furnaces than with electricity and digital technology.

So obsessed with his work, the giant wouldn't notice the time, let alone the fires outside that were slowly approaching Infactorium. If Faetalis or any of his fellow Overseers were to summon him or come across the man working, they would find him hammering away at a very stubborn piece of sheet metal that was probably best scrapped then pounded back into place. That didn't deter Cormac however. He would set this machine right no matter how many hours it took him. Though he wouldn't be happy doing it.

"Dadgummit! Aw, blast it! Poop flirt rattletrap camel flirt! You blonker! Rattle feet sturcklefrat! A womp sack butt ratter bottom fodder!" In the heat of battle, Cormac would weave a tapestry of obscenity that was sure to remain hanging in space for the next century. "Smick melly womp walker! Drop dumb fratten house snickle fifer!"
@Guess Who
@Stern Algorithm

Checking up.

Will have post up today.
Breaking down the domains of the other overseers was far from ideal. Even Cormac, with his sometimes rather abrasive and grouchy personality, seemed to furrow his brow upon hearing this plan from Faetalis. He understood plenty though that practicality outweighed sentimentality. As much as he might miss the other factories, their own survival mattered the most, and that meant repairing the most vital areas and bringing necessities like food production back online.

Hearing Faetalis' orders for Levia though, Cormac couldn't help but worry that his reptilian coworker would go overboard, even if she was told to only recycle and not to melt everything down. It wouldn't be the first time. Seeing the excitement in her eyes, the blacksmith said, "Just remember that we have a job to do and don't get lost in de fun."

With everyone's orders now received, the hulking brute of a man turned to his designated partner, Tungsten, only to watch the automaton leave for Big Scrap Alley, most likely to coordinate his army of Cyber Skeletons. For a second, Cormac considered if doing things on his own as he always had was really the best way to go about things. Having mobs like the other overseers could come in handy. At the very least, maybe an apprentice to pass down his knowledge to?

The second passed though. A silly thought, especially with the dire state Infactorium was in. Perhaps it was something to look into once the guild was back to operating at peak efficiency. If that wasn't possible, at least the best it could be in their bizarre, new circumstances. Lumbering back to The Mór Brionnú, Cormac would collect the tools necessary, searching the floor for his scattered things, before going about and fixing whatever he could on the floors above him.
Cormac was the last to enter the meeting room, something he didn't need to notice for himself as Faetalis commented on his tardiness. In response, the large man let out a gruff, "Hrmph." Considering he had the largest distance to cross, shouldn't it have been expected for him to be last? Of course, there was also the factors that he hadn't exactly been sprinting up the flights of stairs, but he would argue that she should have been glad he didn't take the time to finish sharpening the blade he had been working on earlier before coming.

Faetalis would then go on to explain their new predicament. Not merely attacked, but transported, lifted off their previous plane of existence and plopped down somewhere entirely new. It certainly explained why they had received no warnings before the attack. As long as they still had easy access to things like water and coal to keep the Mór Brionnú running, he wasn't too concerned by the new location, but he understood the many issues that could crop up from this beyond his precious forge.

After everyone had finished speaking of the status of their respective floors, Cormac would do the same. "By comparison with everyone else's facilities, De Mór Brionnú is perhaps in de best state. Many of de pipes funneling smoke and such have become disconnected, leaving a lair of toxic smog to rest near de ceiling. Some furnaces completely collapsed and need to be replaced altogether, especially de larger ones. Most annoying of all though, my tools have been shaken from their resting spots and fallen on de ground. I've no clue where anything that wasn't nailed down is anymore and it'll take me hours to reorganize everything."

For a moment, he considered asking if he could borrow any of the staff from his fellow overseers in order to speed up repairs and reorganization. After all, he was the sole occupant of the Mór Brionnú. The idea was quickly shot down though. When he realized that they would most likely start organizing things through some insane pattern like size or function, it almost send a chill through his spine. No, he needed to put things exactly how he liked them, in an order that made sense to no one else but himself. Otherwise, he'd never be able to sleep at night.
In Dante Alighieri's Inferno, the Italian poet would give one of the most detailed and unique depictions of Hell at his time. Where most described it as a valley of ash and brimstone or a endless realm of darkness and despair, Dante described Hell as growing colder the closer one traveled to its lowest realm. His version of hell still had those previously mentioned descriptors in other parts, especially within the fourth circle that was Wrath and the first where the realm of Limbo resided, but the final ninth circle was described as an icy cold tundra, with temperatures dropping low enough to freeze a man solid. Satan himself was trapped there with all of the other sinners, suffering just as much as any of them, unable to ever escape the punishment God had bestowed upon him.

Infactorium, though, was not Hell. In it's final level, the guild leaders seemed to almost take Alighieri's depiction as a challenge and went about creating what they believed to be the absolute opposite of Dante's Hell. It was the hottest level they could have ever possibly designed. Where the ninth circle had been unbearably cold, here in The Mór Brionnú it was incredibly hot. There were volcanoes that littered the landscape of the world that would be jealous of the temperatures the forges often reached as the man that stoked the flames below went about his work. A man that loved what he did and stayed here because he felt trapped in any other location, whether it be another level of Infactorium or underneath the blue sky of the outdoors.

Speaking of the forge master, Cormac McIntosh was hammering away at what would assuredly be yet another masterpiece to add to Infactorium's weapon vault when he felt the room around him begin to shake. It was a familiar feeling, he had been through plenty of Siege Wars in the past, though as pipes came loose from their placements in the wall and items clattered to the ground from whatever high place they had been previously stored, he grumbled to himself. Why had no one bothered to warn him of the incoming attack? Had no one seen the forces coming to invade? How could they have let this happened? Doing his best to ignore the chaos around him, Cormac would try to finish his work hammering away his irritation before he would go looking for a neck to wring for disturbing his work.

Just as the large man had finished hammering away the last dent in the metal, beating it into a perfectly flat shape that need only be sharpened now, he would hear alarm bells begin to ring within his head. An emergency meeting had been called. "About damn time someone let me know about de attack," Cormac said in his usual, gruff voice. Rising from his seat, he started to make his way out of Mór Brionnú, trudging toward Faetalis' office, feet dragging along the way. He hated leaving his domain in such a sorry state, but when his superiors called he had little choice but to obey.
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
@Stern Algorithm
@Lucius Cypher

Sounds good. I'll try to have my post up by tonight, but if I don't get the chance, it should be up tomorrow after I get back from work.
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