Lucius Cypher

Infactorium: A New 4Xpansion (Overlord RP) [DISCONTINUED]

It wasn't long before Tungsten and Levia finished their work. Without threats of powerful enemies or a particularly hostile environment to worry about, Tungsten was more concerned if he even needed Levia's help. His own destructive abilities could have likely done the same, but these were his orders and Tungsten was not one to question them too deeply. However as he made his rounds to ensure the finality of the destruction, his sensors picked up an oddity. Or rather, an opportunity. This mountain was rich in Bauxite, a valuable material for general construction within the guild. With much of it destroyed and in dire need of repairs it was imperative that the guild accumulate resources in order to hasten the Infactorium back to it's former glory. However Tungsten was also well aware of what this vast mineral deposit could also mean.

While he does not know much about the technology level of this world, Tungsten cannot assume that the guild is better or worse. While it does not sound like either Mae nor Gammaton had any issues with whatever scouting party they had intercepted, there was no telling who the powers that be here were. The enemy was an unknown factor: they could very well be as strong or stronger than the guild right now, and when their scouts return about stories of monsters in the mountains they may come with an army instead of mere lookouts. If that were the case the guild would need to fortify it's defenses, and that meant Tungsten cannot risk sending his Cyber Skeletons to secure the Bauxite in this region, less they be attacked by foreign enemies and lost. And while ordinarily Tungsten had no qualms about losing his soldiers, the situation at the Infactorium was too delicate to be so careless.

Yet at the same time, that same unknown threat made Tungsten well aware that if they do not accumulate resources now to build up their fortifications and supplies now, there may not be an opportunity later. Even for all their power the Infactorium cannot make something out of nothing: all repairs and work being done right now is only due to the cannibalization of preexisting resources within the guild, and they certainly do not have enough to survive a siege. The Bauxite is valuable to the guild not just for it's material properties but because once Tungsten can get the Big Scrap Alley back to some operational level, he can streamline any resources obtained into higher grade, more rarer materials the guild would need. But they must have some sort of income of materials to do so, and that cannot happen if they remained hold up in the ruins of their guild, hoping that the world would turn a blind eye to them.

Tungsten made his decision. "Overseer Levia. We must secure this bauxite ore for the guild. I have already sent a command to my Cyber Skeletons to arrive with wagons and carts to haul our bounty. Let us harvest these materials so that the guild may use it in restoring itself to former glory." Tungsten stabbed Io into a large stone, where she began to passively scanned the area. Not only would this assist Tungsten in locating any further minerals, but she would also serve as a look out for the two Overseers while they worked. Together Tungsten has no doubt they could gather a large quantity of bauxite before sunrise.

Blades of the Blood Coast

Even though he looked more like a dirty brigand, and barely that of a hired sword, Reyvadin knew the importance of looking good. He did his best to comb out his hair and wipe away the sweat and grime on his face. Contrary to popular belief, looking like a poor peasant isn't going to protect you from thieves and low lives. This wasn't some sort of fantasy game where cutpurses and psychopaths prey on able bodied heroes who wandered into the wrong alley. No, they often go for those who are most vulnerable but may have even just a few silvers to spare. After all, if these thugs were willing to throw themselves against someone who looked mildly rich, what made one think they wouldn't be above harassing someone they know is weaker than them? Thus Reyvadin must make sure he looked as good as he could, to make it known he wasn't just some unfortunate peasant among the mass of distroden refugees. Or at least not look the part.

Still if there was anything Reyvadin has learned these past few hours, it was the importance of subtly. And while he did his best to look decent, he didn't try to look too good either. Not just because of a lack of basic necessities such as water, but because Reyvadin was trying to intentionally cultivate a certain level of nondescript about himself. Clean enough that anyone who may talk to him might think him decent, but not so immaculate that they wonder why such a noble is slumming it with the poor. Because the unfortunate truth is that Reyvadin is poor right now, and trying to act like he isn't won't help at all. So while he needed to prove himself better than the common rabble humility is a virtue, and hopefully it'll keep him beneath notice while he's out and about.

Not that it always goes according to plan. But no plan ever does. When the group reached the gates they were halted by the guards. Decently armed men but Reyvadin knows that guards don't merely pick out "random" people for tolls. Either everyone pays, or no one does, and this was obviously a shake down. As Reyvadin had mentally noted, thugs would have no shame in shaking down those who obviously don't have much to give. He eyed the men, knowing that he was far too out numbered to bother trying to fight, though he also noted that the crowds where thick enough that escape wasn't entirely impossibly. These men were armed with billhooks, suitably for fighting against different types of foes, but no so great if they had to slash and stab into a crowd of people. And as Reyvadin was thinking of his next plan of action, the more mouthy ones of the group decided to make their presence known.

Frankly, Reyvadin expected this to happen. If nothing else he's quick to adapt to what he has instead of bemoaning what he doesn't. As the crowd continued to move and jostle around Reyvadin would subtly melt into the crowd, bending low at the knee to seem shorter as Emmaline and Lorcan went on some diatribe that Reyvadin honestly did not care to listen for. But he did want them to keep talking so while the guards were focused on the pretty face and the giant of a man, a relatively normal looking human could just slip by unnoticed. Save him the silver and ensure that these guards don't recognize his face too much.

Rolls

Stealth = 5

Blades of the Blood Coast

Hopefully I'll be able to think of something tomorrow.

Infactorium: A New 4Xpansion (Overlord RP) [DISCONTINUED]

Sorry for being MIA. Just keep hitting a block thinking of a post. With any luck I'll have something around this weekend.

Monster Hunter World: Starfall

I’m alive! Terribly sorry for not posting. I don’t really have an excuse except that I just completely blanked on what to write. I swear I can get something up though.

Forsaken

Rokkit was content to sit and wait for a few minutes. His mind was already stimulated just taking in the sights and devising possible scenarios if he should, hypothetically, raid this place for resources and valuables. Though his attention would also be taken towards the various newcomers who'd arrived. The first, beyond the fiery red-head who was here before him, was a tiefling. He's seen many in his travels and often they're mercenaries of sorts, though what drew Rokkit's eyes was his weapon. A thin long sword of eastern design. Initially Rokkit thought it to be elven, but he does recognize that it belonged to... Some eastern nation. A place he's never been. But heard of their warriors before. It made Rokkit slightly curious as he's never closely examined such a blade and has heard much about them, though he also have heard similar things said of elven and dwarven blades as well, so Rokkit was more curious to dismiss rumor and boasting than cultural fascination.

Next to arrive were a pair of tabaxis. Rokkit didn't recognize them, but apparently one of them knew him. Rokkit wasn't too surprised: Despite being generally unsocial he did go into town either to deliver orders, gathering supplies, or simply shopping. Chances are this tabaxi saw him at a shop or eating at the Grub Pub. And considering Rokkit is the type of orc who considers wearing armor to be casual wear, he would be recognizable for anyone who bothered to be aware of him. "Uruk vrapog golnaukfark utotishi. Mubullan." He said in a harsh but clear orcish. Rokkit was aware of the possibility that this tabaxi may actually know what he's saying, so Rokkit figured he should be polite, but continued to speak orcish even if this tabaxi didn't know it simply to show him and the others that Rokkit was not much for casual conversation unless they're willing to navigate his orcish.

After the two catfolk, a goliath arrived. Rokkit remembers fighting goliaths back when he still ran with the Red Suns. Orcs were usually bigger and stronger than most mortal folks, but the goliaths were a reminder that there are always bigger beasts. Indeed Rokkit's first battle against them taught the orc not to always rely on his brute strength, because while it might be enough to overwhelm smaller and weaker creatures, when faced against even bigger enemies his strength was lacking. Had he fought alone Rokkit would've died that day, but fortunately the orcs outnumbered the Golaiths and Rokkit was able to escape with his head. Though if there was one consistency with the goliaths that Rokkit noticed it's that the goliaths seemed downright primitive at times. And this one was no exception: his attire was simply tribal and instead of guns he carried axes. A younger Rokkit would've scoffed at a barbarian like him, but it was those same axes that nearly decapitated the younger Rokkit, so he knew better than to underestimate this goliath just because he lacked the same tech as Rokkit did. Did bring to question what such a creature was doing here however. As far as Rokkit knew, goliaths aren't prone to mercenary work despite their strength. But then again Rokkit never met many goliaths to know what they do and don't normally do.

The last to arrive was an elf. Rokkit's eyes narrowed upon seeing her. She walked with the sort of grace and arrogance that Rokkit was all too familiar with. That cocksure attitude of superiority that, even with some merit, is often overblown. But at the same time had that strange fey aura that almost made a lesser man desire being underneath such an elf, and Rokkit had to advert his eyes less he too end up strangely fascinated with her. If his time with the elves taught him anything it was to never indulge one. Their aloof yet haughty attitude hide a devious cunning that made arrogant men think less of them, and weaker ones overestimate them. Rokkit hoped to never have to interact with her less he lose his composure and do something foolish. From the way she spoke to the redhead, the elf was indeed trouble.

Having never moved from his seat or really do much beyond looking at the others and responding to the tabaxi, it wasn't long before their host arrived. Abraham Garrick looked much like what Rokkit expected a man like him to look like: old, well dressed, white hair, and human. He offered refreshments however Rokkit didn't bother to ask for any, as he had already eaten his fill before coming here. Instead the orc went straight to questions. "What threats do you anticipate that you needed me specifically, and how will these threats target the phoenix I am transporting? Who else will be traveling with any others, such as handlers, caravaneers, et cetera? And to whom exactly is these creatures suppose to go to, in the event that for whatever reason I have to delivery the phoenix personally?"

"I invited you less for your fighting skills and more so for your prowess with gunsmithing, though undoubtedly your fighting expertise will be needed as well. I imagine you'll encounter any number of threats. The phoenix is a very rare and valuable creature, and anyone from my competitors to lowly bandits might try their hand at snatching it from you. More practically the majority of you use guns of some sort, with some exceptions, and on such a long journey with so many dangers I imagine they'll get a fair amount of use. It'd be best to have an expert on hand who can repair them efficiently. There will be a few others coming along the journey with you. Two expert handlers to make sure everything is handled correctly, along with a chuck wagon, and another wagon for supplies, both of which will be driven by two more of my men. The person I'm sending the pheonix to will meet you in Sasarka, as will the buyer of the hippogriffs. Both will have signed and sealed letters by me identifying them, and the seal will match the one on all of your letters. If they cannot produce these letters, then they are not the people you are looking for. I would tell you their names but you must understand that anyone in this room could easily send someone ahead to obtain the sealed letters from these individuals, and then where would we be?" The man chuckled.

Rokkit listened to Garrick, still not totally convinced. Rokkit had pride in his smithing skills but he knew he was far from the best, even in town. But with a bit more thinking, that's also likely why Rokkit was hired. Even if there were more skilled gunsmith they may ask for more, or would need to bring their entourage. Not to mention Rokkit may be the oddity of being a gunsmith who does know how to fight, professionally even, as oppose to simply shooting for self-defense. So Rokkit wasn't just going to be the camp gunsmith but also a mercenary as well, which something Garrick likely considered when choosing Rokkit. So the orc didn't question him about it any further. As for second half of his question, Garrick didn't really say anything specifically. Of course bandits and even other mercenaries may waylay their caravan, that was a given. But Rokkit wanted to know who exactly might be, who the competition is, and what sort of bandits might be between here and Sasarka. As much as Rokkit tries he's not omniscient and isn't all too aware of Garrick's affair or the dangers on the road, and Rokkit hoped the old man did his research.

As for his second question, Rokkit was somewhat pleased to hear that this ragtag band of mercs aren't expected to handle the hippogriffs and transportation on their own. Rokkit has no particular affinity towards beasts, let alone mythical ones, so better to leave that in the hands of the experts. Additionally there's be two more to operate the wagons, for a total of four extra hands. Saves Rokkit from having to remember how to lead horses again. Presumably the supplies in the wagon will be enough for the group to survive off for a month, though that did make Rokkit think of something else important. Finally Garrick explained that the people buying the beasts will have letters similar to the one Rokkit received from the man himself. It's for that same reason Garrick can't disclosed their names in the event anyone here decides to leave the job for some treachery. Made sense.

"Who are your competitors? And do you know of any gangs that we might run into? I assume you have already got a path mapped out for us specifically to avoid the most trouble, and taking into account what trouble we might run into regardless." Rokkit didn't have any more questions but he did have a request and spoke it plainly. "I will need payment in advance for my own supplies. There are resources in town that will be a valuable asset to ensure the safety of your cargo. And by accepting this down payment you can guarantee that I will not default on this job short of my demise." While Rokkit doubts he has the time to work on anything big, if he could get some extra coin in his pocket he could buy important material components for his infusions and personal projects. Namely Soul Gems, Spell Components, and some extra equipment. All for the sake of the mission of course.

"My friend, I have many competitors in this business. To name them all would take longer than I think we have, but you are right in assuming that I've mapped out a course for you that will hopefully minimize any interaction with unseemly folk. As for any specific gangs, I don't know of any who specifically have it out for me so your guess is as good as mine as far as which ones might try their hand." Mr. Garrick reached into a drawer and produced a rolled up map, setting it on the desk for any of them to take.

"I'm willing to give each of you a third of your earnings in down payment. That will give you 5,000 gold up front that you can use on whatever you'd like for the journey. Normally I would give half, but you must understand that it is a rather large sum and I'd rather not encourage any of you to run off without upholding your end of the bargain."

Rokkit was unsatisfied with Garrik's response, but didn't feel the need to press any further. Suffice to say Rokkit was right that this job wasn't going to be as simple as he thought it might, and not knowing who might be after them meant Rokkit needed to be extra careful for treachery and tricks while they travel. Rokkit was no strange to skullduggery in business, so there was no telling what Garrick's competition might try to do to deprave them of their cargo. As for the down payment, 5000 gold was more than what Rokkit had anticipated so he simply nods his head. That was more than enough for Rokkit to buy what he needs for the road. Indeed, Rokkit could very well revitalize his business with just that much money. But he couldn't let greed get the better of him. By accepting this money Rokkit had to finish the job. Not for any personal honor, but simply out of contractual obligation. Garrick was a powerful man and if he finds out Rokkit fled with the money, the orc knew his business would be over. And Rokkit had no interest in a life of petty banditry and certainly not groveling back at Redsun for safety. No, if Rokkit takes this money he will complete the mission.

Satisfied with the answers Rokkit silently look to the others to see what they had to ask. He was sure they might have more important things that Rokkit might've missed, or they could ask dumb questions that Garrick would have no reason to know or answer. It'll just give Rokkit more insight on the people he'll have to work with, and likely fight alongside of. He wasn't too sure who among them was going to be a reliable fighter. The Goliath was no doubt a warrior but Rokkit was doubtful of his abilities fending off cowardly bandits who'll just run and gun him. The tiefling may be a skilled swordsman but a single sword can't cut down a hail of bullets. The cats didn't look much like warriors but then again he doesn't know anything about them at all. The elf was an elf, probably had magic, but she doesn't seem like the type who would want to get involved in a fight even if she was capable. And finally the fiery redhead who, if Rokkit had to guess, likely had literal firepower in her finger tips and also the dragon that was oddly docile. These were just his first impressions of them but with any luck they'll change. And if he's luckier still, they'll change for the better.

Frozen Darkness

Donny was quietly heating up some scrap metal by the time Cat came back with extra supplies. He looked up to her as he kept the metal evenly heated. "Possible place for plunder, if we happen to have more bullets and a really long rope. Some sort of earthquake opened up an unexplored metro. Could be a whole lot of nothing in there, or some untapped old world goods. Only problem is the place is crawling with ferals so you know, not exactly a friendly place to be." Donny relayed the info to Cat as he looked over the bounty. He largely ignored the bullets as he still had a healthy supply for his pistol, but the coals interested in. Better than trying to smelt with questionable aged wood. However he recognized the importance of this coal to not waste it on their campfire right now: coal like this was vital during Cold Waves to stay warm without producing smoke like what Donny's last campfire did, thus making it safer and more efficient to stay warm.

Once the metal was heated up enough, Donny took it to his anvil and began to shape it with a hammer, the sound of his work echoing in the camp. "There's always two sides to any conflict. Let me guess, someone tell you that those ghouls had sympathetic reasons for attacking Underhaven or something?" Donny shrugged his shoulders as he began to twist the metal into a spring. "Fact of the matter is Underhaven is the only livable place around here. Unless you're real lucky finding a fungi cave, you can't farm in the metro. You need heat, clear water, fertile soil, and you can't get that digging into cement. I'm sure this place has got it's ghosts too but let's be honest, no where is a utopia." The blacksmith looked up to Cat, his face still hidden behind that metal mask of his. "In the end you just gotta do what you can to survive."

Blades of the Blood Coast

<Snipped quote by POOHEAD189>

Alright we know what we gotta do.

Aggressively recruit every friendly NPC we find.

@DrRtron

That is literally Reyvadin’s plan to take back his kingdom. You don’t think he’s going to March up there without an army right?

Blades of the Blood Coast

I don't mind breaking off into groups, though how we break off is probs the question. And if we have to come together.

I think what we need to do first is establish a sort of homebase, even if it's a cheap one. Give us a place that we'll all have to return to, like an inn we're staying at or something. I'm sure with this influx of refugees there might be someone or somewhere housing these refugees and might be willing to put up a place for our group, if only so they know where to go if one of us screws up and gets caught up in the law.

Forsaken

Today was the day. Rokkit had received the letter from Garrick about a job. Says that Rokkit was "a person of some repute", which made the orc suspicious. Sure he's done some good work in town but nothing no other smith couldn't have accomplished. Either Garrick was talking hot air or he was referring to something else about Rokkit that he hasn't told anyone else. And Garrick's a rich man: he would surely have the resources to know what he wants, as any information could come at the right price. Not to mention the job almost sounded too good to be true. Taking a herd of horses from Forsaken to Sasarka wasn't that difficult, even if they were magical ones. Sure, the job would be dangerous, but it's not as if that in itself is unusual. The phoenix was more of a concern, not just because that's their primary job, but because a phoenix is worth more than a hundred hippogriffs. Was this creature alive? Was it in an egg? Was it a bunch of ash in an urn?

So many questions, Rokkit was still having second thoughts about the job. But he also knew he needed it. Frankly, business has been bad. Running a shop by himself wasn't easy especially when he rarely gets any work. Turns out most people don't care for orc made guns, and even the few firearms he made that are of dwarven or elven design don't sell as well as ones made and sold by actual dwarves and elves. It certainly doesn't help that Rokkit's shiny personality makes most customers shy away from him, and even the few braver ones don't care for his gruff attitude and failure to acquiesce to a customer's request. He really should've known better: Rokkit already tried his hand as a merchant before and more or less ended up just like this. He just thought the folks in Forsaken would be more accepting of his attitude.

Thus, Rokkit was hard up on money. He's had to stop supply shipments in order to save up on living expanses, not to mention he hasn't cleared out his current inventory yet. It doesn't help that he has personal projects which haven't amounted to much of anything. His research into miniaturized steam engines have so far gone no where, nor has he stumbled upon any revolutionary armor ideas. The only reason he has business is because of ammo sales, because everyone needed bullets and Rokkit was selling them cheap. But that also meant he was barely into the black: his business simply wasn't making profit. Anger and frustration swelled in Rokkit's head, and he vented his anger by picking up a stone and throwing it into the distance where it smashed against another, larger rock.

"Shrakh. Uruk han. Grub Pub hap."

Letting out a tired breath Rokkit left his humble abode to head to town. A short walk took Rokkit to his favorite eatery: The Grub Pub. A place that sold cheap food and booze. As long as you didn't care too much what part of the beast you were eating, they always had meat on the menu, and it was one of the few places here that served cold drinks. Went Rokkit walked in the waitress, a large and rotund dwarven woman, looked at him. "Morning Rokkit. The usual?" The orc sat himself down at the counter and gave the waitress a nod. She turned towards the kitchen and shouted loudly to the chef there. "Got one Beef's Breakfast on the hoof buried in rocks, mountain men starched and ripped, and a frosted sin neat. We going to have a cube today too?" Rokkit gives a silent nod and adds it to the order. A few more customers come in and the woman goes to attend to them, but not before handing Rokkit a complimentary newspaper. He hasn't read this week's paper so he gave it a look while his food was cooking.

As more people came t the Grub Pub for their morning meal, Rokkit was deep into the paper. It was good to stay up to date about world news, even if it's all filtered through lies and politics. Rokkit knew better than to believe anything at face value, but it's still important that he knows about it in the first place. Soon his food would arrive: a rare beef patty wrapped in lettuce and well seasoned with black pepper, with a side of mushrooms fries coated in potato starch, and a cold glass of apple juice without ice. A working man's meal. Rokkit picks up his green leafy patty, eating it in two big bites before taking a large gulp of apple juice. Then he idly ate his mushroom fries while he finished reading the paper. Once he finished his meal his dessert was served: glimmering red strawberry flavored gelatin, with a small dollop of whipped cream. Rokkit flipped the bowl over his mouth and ate the sweet in one whole bite.

After paying for his meal Rokkit went back to his home to gather his things. As much as he doesn't trust the job, he couldn't turn down the offer, and so he had already made preparations for the journey ahead. He's renting out his store to another smith, liquidated his assets, and made sure to buy supplies for the journey ahead. Once back at home Rokkit would begin donning his armor. He'll likely have to join the caravan as soon as he arrived, or at least that's how his past experiences has been, so he wanted to go there prepared. He kept his helmet off though, knowing that people like Garrick would want to speak to Rokkit face-to-face. His pack was ready as was his bandolier and weapons. His axe on his hip, shotgun slung across the shoulder, and shield strapped to his arm. He balled his hands into fists and punched the air a few times, each strike crackling with thunderous energy from his gauntlets. As he turned to leave he picked up a small glass cage. Inside was a large black and red spider: Flyswatter. It was thanks to this arachnid monstrosity that Rokkit never had to worry about insects in his home. And as he was leaving Rokkit felt something land on his shoulder: a chunky brown cat, Potato.

"Urukrim majatan. Flas zil'nok."

Locking the door behind him, Rokkit heads to the Garrick estate, occasionally looking over his shoulder. It was hard to miss, and pretty much the only notable thing in Forsaken aside from the town itself. By now the city was already awake and people were leaving to work or working. There was the occasional scuffle and shouting, familiar concepts in this town, but Rokkit didn't care to get involved in that. He was an orc on a mission and he was going to see it through. Upon arriving to the manor, Potato hopped off to wander. Rokkit wasn't too concerned: despite being fat that cat was a better hunter and survivalist than Rokkit was. Ranch hands were already hard at work corralling and tending to the various beasts Garrick keeps on the estate. It just reminded Rokkit about his doubts in this job, why he wonders what the catch is that they'll be paid so handsomely, and what exactly Garrick was expecting that he could afford to drop so much money on someone like Rokkit.

But this doubting was starting to grate on the orc's nerves. He's already gone this far. Even if he wanted to back away now it's not like he had contingency plan and frankly speaking, even if this was more than meet's the eye, it's not as if Rokkit couldn't profit either way. Ever since the mines started running dry on ores it was harder for Rokkit to get raw materials for his projects. But if they happened to stumble upon any threats along the roads, Rokkit could take their equipment and repurposes it for his own ends. He in fact prefers it this way: looting was an ingrained part of orc culture and crafts. Crafting from the ground up might've been fine for the Great Four, but for someone like Rokkit maybe this adventure was what he needed.

With a renewed sense of purpose Rokkit would enter the manor. He showed one of the ranch hands the letter Garrick sent to him, and so Rokkit was escorted to a large hall. It looked like someone was already here. A dark skinned woman with literally fiery red hair. The way she carried herself told Rokkit she was a hired gun, likely someone else Garrick sent a letter to. Rokkit was certain that they'd all be formally introduced to each other soon enough, so the orc elected to keep to himself and found a couch wide enough to fit him. Taking off his backpack he sat onto the couch with such force that one could hear the wood creak, but it managed to hold his weight. And now all he had to do was wait.