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Mostly given up on this post by post business

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Destroy the crystals, or accept that this world will never be ours again.

The consistent whine and crunch of metal on metal permeated the air, alerting all those who passed that they had entered the industrial district. Work never ceased for the engineers running their shops or working for the Company, striving with all their might to regain man’s mastery of fire and steel. The ring of hammers and the uncomfortable sounds of controlled explosions gave the place an aura of being far larger than it was. The noise and activity could almost be described as unbearable for those without ear protection, though most in the district wore fur ear-mufflers or plugs to prevent themselves going deaf or insane. The only thing which brought any solace were the frequent breaks taken, perhaps once an hour, for tea and conversation. If anyone wished to make an order in work hours they waited for this break, and it was during just one of those breaks that a man came to see his Brother.

That man was Leif, a wide shouldered man with a distrustful face and a cheeky grin. He was Erik’s half-brother to be exact and had been in Ambrosia a year longer than him, though they had both lived in the city long enough that it blurred somewhat. He was in many ways the polar opposite to his Brother, talkative and sociable but also deceitful and dishonest. He had a bit of a reputation, not in any way helped by his day-job as a loan shark of sorts. Though he and Erik got along to a degree there was something in their past that still niggled, like a pin jammed into the sole of ones shoe, every so often they’d move in a certain way and receive a stabbing pain, a reminder of bad blood. Still, Leif was in a good mood, and apparently the heavens were shining on him because lo and behold Erik was eating a sandwich and smiling, smiling!

“What do you want then?” Erik asked with mock seriousness, though the brusque-ness of his manner wasn’t feigned at all.

“Does one need a reason to visit their Brother?” Leif laughed as he walked into the small armoury-workshop hybrid Erik owned. All around them were off-cuts of metal and tools, neatly stacked against the walls or on tables. Leif ran one finger along the top of a piece of sheet iron.

“Watch your fingers on that, it’s rough.” Erik warned him a moment too late, as Leif pulled his hand back with a yelp and blood welled up on his index finger.

“Now you tell me!”

“I forget how stupid you are sometimes, brother mine.”

“Harsh.”

“But fair, now what’s up? I know you hate the noise of this place.”

“Heard there’s some business opportunities springing up in town, and out of town, if you know what I mean.” Leif raised his eyebrows. “Not illegal neither, some sort of building project.”

“Building project? Big money then if it’s out of town, what are they building, a new water plant?”

“Word is, they’re building a railway.”

“A railway! Where to?”

“Old L.A… right through Clanner territory.” Leif looked at Erik’s face, his own habitual smile had faded somewhat and been replaced with a serious frown. The big Armourer had a far more poignant reaction, his hands clenched and he slammed a fist down into the remnants of his sandwich, splattering it into pulp.

“I’m going.”

“I thought you might.”

Saturday Morning: Ambrosia Western Gates


Erik was in the assorted crowd before the podium, his face let on that he was eager to hear the news he had been told about, to make it true. However, it was only when the Jarl said the words “United West Coast” that he finally allowed himself to believe it. They were going to do it, an ambitious project to be sure, but one that Erik was behind with all his heart. Reclaiming the world with iron and steel and human ingenuity, even hearing the Mages were going to be involved wasn’t enough to dampen his spirits, and to top it all off he’d be sticking it to the Clanners as well. This was one hell of a day.

Even though it was a bit strange, and certainly not the popular sentiment, Erik let out his excitement with a yell of ‘Yes!’ that drew the attention of his neighbours. However many others had smiles on their faces. A project like this meant wealth and food on the table, and with everyone getting involved it was hard not to get into the spirit of things. Erik was an individual contractor, so he would have to sign up personally to get involved, however with his skillset he was confident of being taken in. With an added spring to his step he started off to make the necessary arrangements.
These are individuals, so far I believed that spoke about interest in the arc last I checked.


Well, as it stands I suspect I'll be little more than a sidenote providing some exposition, but I'm happy to do so.
I meant that it would be hard to see the actual knife itself, not the strike; perhaps it was a bit clumsily worded, but that was the intention. And no, the part about the kick was pretty clear; no misunderstanding here.


Fair, but Sigurd knew about the knife, he saw it earlier on.
Jen doesn't plan on working. She plans on getting drunk as all hell and seeing who she can con into going to the back alley to steal their soul.


Is that a euphemism? Sounds like a euphemism.
@MelonHead
Can Corban be in his female body (Crystal) and be the first bar-hand/waitress for sir Panda!?


Sure, though I believe IN was going to be a waitress as well so you probably won't be the first.

Does anyone else want to work at the bar? I think we should all just work at the bar.

Petition to rename this RP the Panda Bar chronicles?
What do you mean? And what is that supposed to mean anyway?


Thought it was pretty self explanatory, you seem to like batons judging by the amount they show up in the gifs, which is not necessarily the first weapon which springs to mind when picking favorites.
I recently finished reading the Monk, and now every time I read Ambrosia I read it Ambrosio and wonder what diabolical plans are afoot.

Anywho, sounds like an interesting introduction. Erik has something of a vendetta against the Clan and the sort of skills one wants when building a railway, so it should be an easy sell, which makes my job easier. I love strong motives.
@Tearstone One of the GIFs that appears in your signature is a woman spinning on the railing at the top of an escalator and it cracks me up each time I see it because I'm struggling to understand what she's doing, lol.


I've also noticed a predisposition towards batons, of all things.

E.T.A on the PM collab Nexus? I'm gunna miss out on all the fun stuff if I can't get my character introduced in the next week or so ;(
My character's almost finished; I'll put it up when I'm completely done. She's a combat mage though... are there too many of them?


Well, there's definitely more mages than not.
As Sigurd dragged himself backwards so that only his lower legs lay in line with his enemy Gigue made the move he had suspected, his upper-torso moving counter-clockwise by necessity to reach for him. The Northman had been prepared for a move of its kind, though it was not the exact one he predicted, he was ready to react at the slightest inclination with a kick. His target however was not an obvious one at first glance, though that depended upon how one looked at combat. In tandem with Gigue thrusting across his body with his knife, Sigurd’s right leg darted low in a whip-like motion that would earn itself little damage had all things been equal. However, all things were not equal, and Gigue had a weak-spot. His left leg was wounded, the blade still hung from it, and Sigurd’s leg was to drive his heavy boot directly into that blade and that wound, creating a moving target for Gigue to deal with while simultaneously inflicting great pain upon him.

Sigurd’s somewhat underhanded kick would of course be punished by the knife thrust, but all things being equal it would only cut across the top of his boot and slide down the left side, leaving an inch deep cut about three inches down from the big toe and cutting free. Ignoring his own pain, Sigurd intended to use the distraction of his kick to make good his escape, pulling himself away from Gigue so he could climb onto his feet.
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