Lucius Cypher

Blades of the Blood Coast

I caught the Rona, so I've been shut down for the past few days. Even vaccinated it hurts like a motherfucker.

Frozen Darkness

"S-Sorry." Donny said somewhat shyly. "I get excited when I see food. Everyone just eats nutrient bricks... No one really appreciates real food these days." Collecting what he could, Donny looked over to Cat when she alerted him to movement. He didn't notice. "Right, I'm done here. Let's go." He followed her away from the cacti and followed her to the grocery store. Despite knowing better, Donny did begin looking for anything worth looting. Alas, the only thing of any possible worth was glass and cement: Any food be it canned or preserved was long gone, and even the cash register was stolen. Looking at the storage room, it was indeed frozen solid. "Hmm... If I had the proper tools, could crack the ice. Unfortunately don't have anything like that here, and it'll take me time to make one. Might want to keep this location noted though, in case we want to come back."

However as Cat mentioned more noise, Donny was on guard. This was the second time he didn't hear it. That meant either they were very far, or they were close and moving quietly. When Cat described them as human Donny shook his head at her offer. "Let's not. Don't know who's up here and I'd rather not tangle with them. None of those refugees are equipped to be up here, and if it's ghouls I doubt they'll take kindly to us either. Let's just head back underground, I don't like being in the open like this anyways." Donny said as he took out his rifle. Cat would finally see his massive gun, which unlike many firearms of this day and age, actually looked new. He opens it to check the ammo, before closing it and holding it close. Donny's tense. He looked like a new militia solider: nervous but willing to kill. This was likely Donny's first time using this rifle. And possibly his first time encountering human threats.

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

I vote timeskip. Given how efficient everyone is, maybe just a short one like a week. Long enough that we aren't living in our ruined and gutted guild, but still lean on resources.

Frozen Darkness

Donny looked at the map and the path Cat pointed out. He had his doubts. "Walking the surface huh? Normally I'd avoid that but... You're not wrong either. Doesn't seem like there's been too much salvaging around this area, or at the very least it's mostly been done in the metro. Could be stuff on the surface to find, but there's also a chance for danger too. Harder to get your bearings if there's a storm up top, which there usually is... But if you think it's a good idea, let's at least see how things are up top. Better than digging through rocks at any case." Memorizing the path, Donny and Cat would head out towards the surface. The path was pretty save aside from slightly slippery floors, as this area still had frost from yesterday's Cold Wave. But the fact the frost was here also indicated no one had been here since said Cold Wave. Soon the two would find a small service staircase leading up. Unsurprisingly it was covered in snow, but still solid enough for the two to make their way to the surface.

Much to Donny's surprise, it wasn't snowing. Didn't mean it was safe however: there was a cold wind that left a chill in the bone, and occasionally it would whip up a flurry of snow that could blindside you. But this was a rare moment where the clouds weren't dropping more snow and ice, and it was merely windy. It was also vaguely day: the sky was a dull grey, indicating that the sun was up albeit still blocked by the snow clouds that have been here ever since the apocalypse came. It made Donny think back to that doodle from those dead kids. Now he really wished he didn't think about it.

Looking back at the map, it wouldn't help them on the surface but as Cat mentioned there may be more metro entrances along the way. Only problem would be finding them beneath the snow. Not to mention the temperature: the metro was bad, but livable as long as you weren't caught in a Cold Wave. But the surface sapped your strength constantly due to how cold it was, and Donny had to turn on his armor's engine just to resist the freezing temperatures. "Let's move quickly. It might not be bad now, but I don't want to be here when it gets worse."

Trekking through the snow and ice, there wasn't much initially. The first thing they came across was an abandoned car. Seemed like someone had already broken into it however: the dashboard was stripped of it's radio and other electronics, someone siphoned what little fuel was left inside, and the trunk was broken into. Even the upholstery was torn up, though this might've been due to mutants rather than scavengers. The only thing worth grabbing was perhaps the tires for rubber, but Donny wouldn't bother since he lacked the tools or the immediate need for frozen tire rubber. Moving on, they would encounter something a bit more interesting. Beasts and people weren't the only things that have mutated in these conditions. The radiation that has leaked out into the world to create bizarre and strange creatures have also created strange fauna, so Donny and Cat would actually find a grove cacti growing out of a snow bank. "Oh shit, prickle pears! Seems like heading to the surface was a good idea after all." Donny eagerly went up to the cacti, taking out a knife and opening his bag.

"Prickle Pears grow on these spiky plants. You want to get the small white ones at the top: they're edible and have seeds you can make into a porridge. If I wasn't freezing my ass solid right now I'd try to prune the needles off and take some of the body. If you heat them up over a pot, you can siphon fresh water from them. Most creatures eat them whole, and when they die the seeds inside feed off the corpses to grow into these cacti. Fact there's so many here must meat something big died here a while ago... So take what you can." Donny already harvested most of the Prickle Pears, carefully avoiding getting stabbed by the needles. Despite being plants they were almost as hard as steel, though easy enough to remove from the sides. Evidentially they were meant to break off once stabbing into a creature, ensuring a slow and painful death long after the creature or person left. Even plants were violent in this day and age.

Blades of the Blood Coast

Ten thousand years etc etc, and I've posted.

Blades of the Blood Coast

After getting into the city, Reyvadin shadowed the group, quietly observing and following along. He didn't know as much about this place as he would've liked: had they been in the north Reyvadin could probably blend in as a local, but he stood out like a sword wound here, which was all the more reason he needed to stay low less he attracted unwanted attention. He mainly stayed with the group as a sort of smoke screen: anyone with ill intent would likely focus on the more colorful and talkative members than himself. But that doesn't mean Reyvadin didn't keep track of where he was and where he was going. He wasn't sure how long he'd stay in this city or even with this group, but it would be important for him to know the ins and outs. It was something taught to him while he was being a knight. Young men may think winning battles is about being a skillful fighter, but that was merely a part of it. Knowing your terrain was just as important, because anywhere could be your battlefield. Considering how lowly Reyvadin's current status was, he should be prepared to know his escape routes if he has to resort to some sort of petty thievery and make an escape: last thing he wants to do is turn towards a dead end which will lead to his end.

When the group found an inn to stay at, Reyvadin made a note of it's location but didn't enter. Tired as he was, there was still some things he needed to do. The first being to get a proper spear. He's no doubt that he'll have to start using his weapon for more mercenary endeavors henceforth. With the rapid increase of refugees there's no doubt crime and banditry in the countryside, which will no doubt keep the city's soldiers busy. This was an opportunity for sellswords to sell their expertise for buyers to reclaim or secure interests outside of the city that have now been abandoned, and Reyvadin wants in on that action. But he won't be finding many clients if he's dressed little more than a looter armed with a stick. A proper spear will at least keep him armed, and maybe a solid set of boots too. The wrappings around his feet were wearing out from all the walking he had to do just to get here.

Faeril left, and Reyvadin figured he'd follow. He didn't ask permission of course, but Faeril didn't ask not to be followed, and Reyvadin at least had the courtesy to have his presence be known to him. They went through the city, wandering about various shops and brothels. Were he a youngerman Reyvadin would be tempted to partake in vices and women even with his meager coin, however he knew not to waste his money on such frivolous things when he had actual priorities to be had. There was a large crowd, a mob really, seemingly discontent with someone's manor. A familiar sight to Reyvadin: peasants back at home were quick to cause a ruckus, and Reyvadin was often there to see them put down. Made him wonder if maybe that's why his family was so quickly disposed that fateful day. But he moved on as he arrived to an actual market place.

It was no Yruma, but this market was better kept than your typical townsquare. Which isn't saying much, but it's better than nothing. An artisan district with various workers and craftsman hard at work. Reyvadin wondered if any of them knew what had just happened outside of the city, or if they were satisfied with their tiny lives within their shops. More things for him to ponder. It was here that Reyvadin split of from Faeril, looking to find a smith who wasn't currently occupied. Ideally, he could find an affordable spear for a silver or three. He might try to haggle if it's worth more. But if not, Reyvadin would simply see if he could find a smith who has the time to set the current knife he has into the spear shaft he's already carrying. A deceptively simple job perhaps, but Reyvadin knows to let more skilled people do it than try it himself. Simply tying a knife to a staff was something a desperate brigand does, and such weapons were not nearly as reliable as they seemed. Better to get a smith who can properly notch wood and set the screws. If Reyvadin had anything else left, he'll see about investing in some footwear.

Blades of the Blood Coast

I'll try to get a post up today. Sorry for the long silence.

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

Yeyo. Tungsten had secured the buxite so who knows what those ramifications are. Hell proba head back to base and continue restoration. May I recommend a timeskip where we see some tangible development and gather more Intel? I would figure by then we would have an idea of the world within the immediate surrounding thanks to our prisoners, and we have some semblance of fortifications set up. We're probs also going to need to sort out some expeditions to either father whatever materials we can't immediately obtain, or father further inte.

Forsaken

Everyone asked their questions and Rokkit paid some attention to them, only to take out his book and make a quick note about what everyone had said. He really couldn't be bothered to remember everything that was said. As he wrote down his notes he looked back on previous notes as well. Pages filled with scattered messages, directions, lists, and doodles. He keeps his actual schematics in a different book, one that looked far more important for a glorified diary. That being said some of the notes in this one also were important. In particular, a few shops that Rokkit has plans to go visit. With the 5k down payment Rokkit will be able to afford a lot of things he couldn't have bothered to make or work on before. Sure, he already has the necessary equipment and materials for general repair and ammunition manufacturing, but he was going to use this money to buy parts to make new weapons. It was difficult for Rokkit to not want to just leave with that money right now and immediately start working on his projects.

The life of a gunsmith, even one out here in the sticks, was not an easy one. Rokkit had to postpone many personal projects and experiments simply to pay his taxes to the town. And it was hard to do that when you're a bad businessman more interested in creating weapons than making what a customer wants. Back in the clan, Rokkit never took the term "The Customer is always right" seriously. Seemed like something self-righteous cravens say just to justify harassment and discounts. But since moving to Forsaken Rokkit has learned it's true meaning that if he can't sell a product that people want, no matter how earnest or well he does make his weapons, no one will want to buy from him. That's why he had to stop his projects and make more conventional firearms, weapons that normal people liked. Nothing he liked of course but... It put food on the table.

Thinking about that life made Rokkit have a moment of introspection. What was it that he wanted? He always had some grand, lofty goal to one day go back to the Redsun clan and get his revenge for what had happened, but he hasn't really made that many efforts towards it. He never joined a warband that would fight them, or find other orcs who had similar ideals. Even after learning magic Rokkit never once though about how to use any of it against the traitors. It was always just about creating weapons and exploring the possibility of designs. Even this job, what did he stand to gain from it? Money, of course, but to what end? Was he going to come back to his shop and try and invest that money to make a living here? Or blow it all on zanny schemes and projects?

Too much thinking on Rokkit's part. He hasn't even gotten that down payment yet and he's already distracting himself on a what-if future. He needed to focus on the here and now. Garret offered the group dinner, which Rokkit would gladly part take in. He wasn't one to complain about free food even if it's of poor quality. Orcs aren't known for their excellent cuisine after all. Plus it was going to be a chance to actually introduce himself to the others. Rokkit's normally not one for a social gathering but he wasn't entirely against it either. As long as no one expects him to dress up formally: the best he'll do is a cleaner version of his current look. "So be it. Just hand over the initial payment, and I will meet you back here for dinner."

After dealing with whatever formalities Rokkit needed doing, he had left the mansion to do some shopping. There are a few gunshops that Rokkit had a professional relationship with. Probably the only good thing about his business management skills: he never registered as a threat to the rest of the competition in the town, assuming any of them even knew who he was. Which they probably don't, considering that the only time he ever goes to their store was to buy parts. The first place he stopped at was a dwarven gunshop known as the Gunhammer. It's sign was the aforementioned gunhammer, a gun and hammer hybrid. Rokkit questioned the functionality of such a weapon, but if anyone could do it, it'll likely be the dwarves. Aside from their strange choice in weaponry another thing the Gunhammer sold was antique dwarven weapons. Things that most people don't really buy for practical use, such as greataxes or warhammers. They also have some guns from an older time, before they were rendered obsolete with more advanced weapon technology. And it was one of such weapons that Rokkit was interested in.

It was called a Dwarven Seven Barrel Shooter. It was probably called something more poetic in dwarven, but Rokkit neither knew or cared what that name was. What he cared about was the strange design of this weapon. The gun was basically a musket mounted onto a revolver frame, otherwise known as a pepperbox. Such designs were created back in the days where guns had to be muzzle loaded with powder and shot, so the dwarves thought it more efficient to simply bring a gun that had multiple barrels primed and ready, as oppose to constantly loading and shooting a single barrel during the heat of battle. The real key however was the fact the dwarves created the paper cartridge for the Seven Barrel Shooter, enabling them to load powder directly into the gun without need of a ramrod, which was considered the height of gunsmithing back in the day.

Indeed, the weapon was so popular that it was chosen by most dwarven governments as the new standard of arms for their soldiers, and saw mass production. Which naturally led to multiple gun companies trying to improve on the design, which ultimately lead to the current age of firearms, where bullets are jacketed with metal instead of just raw powder crushed against a leaden ball. At that point the needlessly bulky and heavy Seven Barrel Shooter was retired barely a few years into service, and a new more practical designs became the standard. Thus these weapons, despite having their day in the sun, have been rendered into little more than collectables, if there's even any parts left. The two firearms on display in particular have been battle tested and show their history: two barrels bent, a damaged trigger, rust from oxidized black powder. Frankly Rokkit was surprised that the shopkeepers kept the weapon around, considering it'll barely function in it's current state. But Rokkit should be thankful they didn't toss it before the orc could buy it. He brought both rifles for 500 coins, along with an assortment of conventional weapon parts and pieces that would be harder for Rokkit to make on the go, for a total of 1200 coin spent.

The second shop he needed to go to was a weirder one, at least for him. But he needed to go to a jewelry store. He needed to buy some gemstones to fuel some of his more complex magic contraptions, and as there wasn't a dedicated magic store in town that Rokkit knew of. However he also knew it was going to be a bit of a challenge here. Not because he doubted this shop would have what he needed, but simply because he vaguely knew the owners. Ran by a husband and wife who Rokkit had learned has a less than positive opinion on certain races, such as orcs, and while they wouldn't obviously mention it Rokkit knew what they are wary of him when both their sons and daughters suddenly come to "help" watch the shop. But as long as they didn't cause him trouble, he wouldn't cause them trouble.

Fortunately Rokkit's time with the jewelry store went without much issue. Unfortunately, they didn't have what he was looking for. Sure enough when he arrived, the sons and daughters arrived and spoke to Rokkit in lieu of the elderly parents. Unlike the parents the children were more tolerant and willing to do business with Rokkit. He made his intentions clear: he simply wanted the gemstones, not the gold and silver attached to them. Unfortunately the store mostly dealt in gold and silver and any gemstones on them were not sold separately. Rokkit wasn't sure if this was true or if they were simply lying to him to get rid of him. He's loath to say more than needed, but he needed these gemstones and he honestly didn't know where else to find them. Fortunately, one of the sons helped Rokkit out.

Apparently there is a magic shop in Forsaken, though unsurprisingly, it caters more to the advanced magic users. Rokkit was surprised that he's only now just heard of it, but then again he's mostly only dealt with guns and smithing. It never occurred to him how many magic users this town had. Rokkit left to head to this shop, which was located in a more refined part of town. Rokkit stuck out like sword wound here. People actually looked like wizards here, whereas Rokkit looked like a barbarian from the mountains. Which... He kind of was. He tried not to think about it as he entered the market. Somehow he felt a bit comfortable here as various merchants and traders trying to hawk their wares to various customers competing to get the best deals. Reminded him of home. So getting into the mindset, he set out to find those gemstones.

What Rokkit quickly learned is that the stones he's looking for are plentiful here in the market, but also in high demand. People far richer than Rokkit buy them up in bulk, leaving only a few merchants who'll sell individual stones that are then brought up by faster and more cunning people. Rokkit needed to be just as fast and keep his eyes sharp to find them. Fortunately he managed to find two gemstones of good quality, buying them for 100 gold each. He could've gotten them for cheaper if he was willing to haggle, but when he tried to do that on the first stone he found someone else brought it out from underneath him. So he figured he'd do the same, buying a ruby and an onyx.

There was one more stop he had to make. This one was to the metal yard. While the gunsmiths created delicate parts that were needed for guns, for Rokkit's armor he simply needed raw materials. However mere steel wasn't going to be enough. The metal yard had various minerals he would need to create more advanced armor. Not just metals that were functionally harder, but also served different purposes. Copper to conduct energy, corundum for abrasives, and if possible, Tungsten. Possibly the hardest metal that Rokkit can work with, short of adamantine. He's tried to work adamantine before but it's requires such heat that Rokkit needed a magic forge to work it, which he never found. Here Rokkit brought 2000 gold worth of assorted metal ingots. More than enough to quite possibly create the ultimate armor, assuming he figures out how that looks like. Not to mention the more magical aspects of his armor would need gemstones and more esoteric materials, but at least this way he has the base materials accounted for.

He had the metal delivered to Garrick's estate, where Rokkit could have it loaded onto the wagon. The day was winding down, but there was one final location. Possibly the only place that Rokkit has "fun" in Forsaken. Counting out his coins again the orc headed to a seedy red light district. It should come to no surprise that a place like Forsaken sold all sorts of vices, and Rokkit was a mere mortal. However Rokkit's final destination was not a brothel. It was also a coffee shop. Now that was rarer than meteor iron. Rokkit has learned to love the taste of coffee during his time as a mercenary. Sure, ale and beer was usually the drink of choice for a soldier of fortune, but Rokkit has made a living off of coffee and if he had to choose between a bag of coffee beans and his weight in gold, he'd go for the beans every time.

The location he visited was called the Exotic Taste. Coffee wasn't the only thing sold there, they sold different sort of foreign and local narcotics. This was the place Rokkit usually got his tobacco from, Winterstem. A lovely little cultivar with multiple uses, from clothing, medicine, and other industries. But what it's most known for is it's ability as a muscle relaxant and painkiller. Especially when rolled up into some paper and smoked like a cigar. Between a roll of Winterstem and a cup of strong coffee, Rokkit would have a tough choice of vice. But with all this extra money in his pocket, he can afford to indulge in both. Compared to the whore houses it's stuck between, the coffee shop was so small it could've been mistaken as a storage closet. Inside the shop was only a few tables, the bar, and the owner of the establishment. A strange looking human: despite the colorful hair and weirdly pale skin, this man was 100% human.

Rokkit went to take his usual spot by the bar. It was the only spot that fit him comfortably. The owner of the bar, the colorful human man, had his name written on his apron. "Maverick. Iced barely coffee macchiato, double sugar. And a Winterstem fatty. Frosthound brand if you have any." The first thing Rokkit was given was the cigar. A fat brown roll that Rokkit cut with his axe. Holding it in his mouth he raised his fingers to the foot of the cigar and snapped, creating a spark that lit the cigar up. He began to immediately enjoy the relaxing effects of the the winterstem, letting out a plume of smoke. He tried to make a smoke ring but the best he could do was a vaguely round cloud. Soon enough Maverick would have Rokkit's coffee ready, and the orc sipped it like a fine wine. "Angijak..." Rokkit said in an almost dreamy manner.

Another customer came in. A lanky looking dragonborn Rokkit was vaguely familiar with. She was something of a regular here, or at least came here often enough that nearly all of Rokkit's visits here had her present. He was somewhat acquainted with her as they've had a few chats in the past, but not enough to really call each other friends. "Hmph. Never made any friends at all while I was here." Rokkit thought to himself. Indeed, he didn't have too many friends, nor many enemies. It's like he barely really existed here in this gods Forsaken. He glanced over at the dragonborn. He didn't know her name, neither of them really introduced each other. He knows she works at a bank, and she knows he runs a gunsmithy. She comes here to unwind after dealing with customers all day, and Rokkit's just here for the coffee. He wondered if he should strike up a conversation again but decided against it. He was going to be out of this town for a month. Chances are, this woman would forget him by tomorrow. And as relaxing as his cigar was, he wasn't so relaxed that he felt like casually interacting with familiar strangers.

After finishing his drink and smoke, Rokkit paid a hefty sum of 500 gold for some coffee and winterstem, to go. Which was an almost absurd amount: a single cigar was just five silvers, and for the amount Rokkit was buying he might as well be a supplier. But no, everything he was buying was strictly for personal use. Perhaps not the most responsible way of handling his money... But he didn't care. Rokkit wanted to enjoy his new found wealth and felt that coffee and weed was hardly the worse way he could spend it. At least he's not sleeping with the whores next doors, possibly contracting a venereal disease. Despite how tough he was even Rokkit knew not to risk his loins for plastic love.

Gathering up his things Rokkit checked the time. It was about time for dinner. With any luck those workers shipped his metal to the mansion as well, so it'll be ready to be loaded onto the wagon by tonight. Rokkit debated using his money to buy his own horse and wagon, but decided against it. Transportation was already arranged for them, Rokkit will simply commandeer the one given to him instead of spending more money for a personal wagon he couldn't be bothered to take care of anyways. Logistics was always one of those things that Rokkit knew was vital, but he simply lacked the means and reason to be concerned about it. His armor helps his already powerful build carrying most of the things he needs. A wagon was just to carrying bulkier things that Rokkit would already have dismantled for transportation anyways, such as his anvils, smelter, and trough. Still, less weight for Rokkit meant more things he could carry, and he certainly did buy a lot today. No way he could carry those ingots even with his armor on. So it was a good thing he was being given a wagon to use.

It was about five o'clock when Rokkit returned to the mansion. Not much has changed though he didn't see many workers. He could only assume that they've changed shifts, or maybe were working out afield. Didn't matter to him. He took out a cigar and lit it up, heading inside to see what's for dinner. Hopefully it wasn't one of those fancy dinners with small portions. Rokkit was an orc and needed orc sized meals. Letting out a black cloud of winterstem, he glanced around the room. "Now where's the kitchen..."

Frozen Darkness

Donny tried not to groan at the idea of being out there for longer than he had to. Perhaps he was spoiled for his time working within the colony, but he disliked the notion of willingly camping outside of the safety of a colony or settlement. However he didn't voice these complaints, knowing full well that this was simply the sort of life one had to live to survive this day and age. After finishing his meal and clean up, he took Cat's hand and stood up. "Aye. Let's head out."

Once things were settled at the camp, the two would head back into the metro. It was almost odd, as some of the other refugees were still nearby, even after leaving the safety of the colony. It seemed like most of the refugees were working together, with one group making a sort of advance camp while others went to scavenge. None of them really paid any mind to Cat and Donny, however Cat would spot Werner as one of the few people staying at the camp. He wouldn't notice Cat however, as he and a few other young men were busy setting up a shelter of sheet metal and cement bricks. Nothing that would protect your during a cold wave, but it could be a useful defensive position if you had to fend off mutants or raiders. "Alright, let's try to hit up some of those locations then. The closest is that Cassie's place. I don't know what's there, but hopefully it hasn't be plundered yet."

Based off the map, Cassie's was some sort of small store. Easy to miss, probably not something you'd intentionally go looking for. As the duo would head in that direction they'd come across the first obstacle: the most direct path to Cassie's was caved in. The map didn't show this, annoying Donny. "Looks like we're going around then." Donny picked up a rock from the rubble. It was cold and frozen over. He chipped off some ice from it before tossing it away. "An old collapse. Probably ten or so years ago. Damn, reminds me that these tunnels aren't going to hold forever." Looking up, you could already see the cracks in the ceiling from years of erosion. Ice formed in these cracks, which were only going to weaken the structural integrity even more so. "Still... If we happen to run into something our guns can't handle, maybe we can drop the rocks on them. It was something the Valklin would do in their raids. Usually went along the lines of attacking the colony, feigning retreat, and then blowing up the ceiling above the defenders while another group attacks from a different entrance." Donny took out one of his firebombs. "With a bit of timing and luck even a humble oil bomb could trigger a collapse. Keep an eyeout for cracks in the ceiling, in case we need to do some demolition."