SepticGentleman

Voldoa: City of Monsters (A meeting among Tarblatt, certain Engineers, and the Hands will be conducted soon.)

Coca-Cola was invented in 1886 and went into mass production in 1889.

It's 1884 or something. So close enough.

@UrbanEvolution

I'm gonna make a new character. He's gonna be the reanimated corpse of John Pemberton and he's going to come to Voldoa to get his revenge.

Voldoa: City of Monsters (A meeting among Tarblatt, certain Engineers, and the Hands will be conducted soon.)

Kantus and Grob

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November 18, 7:40PM
West Commons, Grob's Wondrous Emporium

The first wheel was about to start turning.

After locking up the clinic for the time, Kantus had left to tend to his latest matters. A short walk after, he had descended the stairs by a waterway, taking care as to not draw any unwanted attention towards himself.

He turned, and before him stood his destination. A ruddy but volatile little shop, and the gremlins running it. Kantus approached, and the gremlin at the desk, Grob as the sign overhead indicated, looked up at him.

"Greetings!" He said, "Interested in buying some wares of mine? Or perhaps ya looking for something I got 'round back? What do ya want? I probably got it mate."

No immediate response came from the Lord of Owls. Instead, he merely presented a tied roll of bills and set it on the counter. The gremlin's hairless brow rose as Kantus spoke quietly.

"Your service."

"My service?" Grob replied, a scowl replacing his look of curiosity. "I ain't no mercenary. You're looking at the wrong gremlin, me lord." He said, with mocking emphasis on the last two words, peering at Kantus' many layers of regal attire.

He did not reply. He simply produced several more rolls of bills, with several more arms.

Grob slowly began to smile. He nodded and looked back up at Kantus. "A'ight. You got my attention. What do you want?" He said, walking out from behind the counter and looking up to the being in front of him.

Kantus wasted no time on obscurity.

"In four hours, at exactly11:32 PM, you and your cohorts must set off any sort of... explosive display, in plain view of the Engineers' watchtower between Overlook and Arboretum. Nothing lethal, only loud and bright. You will keep their attention for as long as you can and play the incident off as some form of inventory malfunction."

Grob nodded. "Precise..." He said, resting his chin on his fingers, "But okay, deal! The money, now, though."

Kantus set the rest of the bills on the counter. As Grob returned to his original position, the Lord of Owls issued him a warning.

"Know this." He said, craning his neck forward a bit. "Should you underperform or neglect your service, or speak of this to any soul..."

He pulled aside the collar of his coat, revealing the Badge of Hands resting underneath.

"There will be consequences."

Grob's face returned to a bit of a scowl as he looked at the badge. Grob took the money greedily. "All right." He said lowly, "A merchant like me can keep his word."

"Good. Be ready."

Kantus turned and left the vicinity of the shop while Grob began counting the bills. The first half of the preparations was done. Now, however, he had to wait for the latter half.

He ascended the stairs and made his way back to his clinic.

Voldoa: City of Monsters (A meeting among Tarblatt, certain Engineers, and the Hands will be conducted soon.)

TARBLATT'S DOCTRINE

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As conceived and written on the third of March, 1884, by Hugo Berchthold Tarblatt, Founder and first Master of the Engineers, and sole bearer of the Last Secret of the Mandrian Devils, the late servants of the Maker.

The following are the words that the Engineers shall remember, enforce, and abide by for as long as they remain of this world, free of defiance and question among their ranks, for the betterment of both themselves, their fellow man, and those of different bloods and forms.

---

1. The Engineers shall operate in three separate Tiers. The first Tier will travel outside Voldoa to search for, find, and offer safe haven to any and all nonhuman beings. The second Tier shall reside within Voldoa to provide service and protection to its peoples and their greatest interests. The third Tier shall reside beneath Voldoa, in what shall be known as the Undercity, to maintain and reap from its eldritch foundations.

2. Voldoa is both city and citadel, and will be protected above all else, at whatever cost may come. Should it fall to forces beyond, the Undercity and all things within it are to be purged in the manner as described by the Master; the foundations shall be struck, and the third Tier of Engineers shall submit themselves to the first and final sentient sound.

3. The Engineers know a great deal of knowledge once lost to the obscure reaches of time. These truths and instructions, etched in the very depths of the Undercity, must be kept solely amidst the Engineers and those they trust most on this earth, who pledge their lifelong allegiance to the good will and prosperity of Voldoa and its peoples.

4. As men, all things strange and arcane are naturally unwelcome in the blood and bodies of the Engineers. Such incompatibilities should not translate to any authority whatsoever over the lives, traditions, and cultural norms of any nonhuman resident within Voldoa. However, as per the concept of altruistic order, conflicting practices must be met with appropriate consequences. The malicious harming and/or harboring of a living human being within the city's walls, Engineer or otherwise, will not stand.

5. Voldoa is a safe haven to all nonhumans, but it must not become a prison to them. All residents will be allowed to come and go as they please, should they consider themselves willing and able to combat the uncertainty of the outside world, now ruled over by the likes of mundane mankind. The Engineers, likewise, will never be permanently tied to their respective Tiers, though balance and stability must be maintained within them.

6. To honor the memory, achievements, and legacy of the Maker, he who conceived and created all things not man or mundane, the second and third Tiers of the Engineers shall outfit themselves in coats, capes, and garbs hewn from the same foundations as Voldoa's artificial sentinels. The first Tier shall refrain from such, so as to not unintentionally reveal the existence of the Engineers to the world outside.

---

Voldoa: City of Monsters (A meeting among Tarblatt, certain Engineers, and the Hands will be conducted soon.)

I don't mind setting up connections, but I'll be coming in slowly, only glanced over the characters and haven't read any of the ic yet,been focused on getting my character right, despite how sparse my vs may be.

On that note, Have A Tavern.

The Pale Horse

First Floor
-Bar(duh)
-Tables for eating(13)
-A gambling area, figure 3 or 4 tables should be good.
-Stable behind the tavern for his horse
-Stage for preformers
-Entrance to food stores, two entrances one from behind the bar, one in the kitchen.
-Kitchen: an alcove behind the bar with an open window to receive orders. Probably needs at least 2 or 3 cooks.

Second Floor
-10 normal rooms, each containing a twin sized beds with a futon like matress, 1 wardrobe, a window, and a bedside table.

Cheap Room

-5 Higher end rooms. Have higher end decor with Queen size bed, 2 Windows, and a personal bathroom, a writing desk, and large wardrobe.

Hider

-1 bathing room with basin and tub free use to those staying at The Pale Horse.

@The Fox Without

_{[DESIRE TO GET SHIT-FACED INTENSIFIES]}

Voldoa: City of Monsters (A meeting among Tarblatt, certain Engineers, and the Hands will be conducted soon.)

Before I finalize the designs for the tavern, would anyone want to live there, could easily be an inn/boarding house and tavern, otherwise probably just have rooms available for use of ladies of the night.

@The Fox Without

You talked to Urban about a certain someone working there, right?

Voldoa: City of Monsters (A meeting among Tarblatt, certain Engineers, and the Hands will be conducted soon.)

Thomas Marborough

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November 18, 3:47PM
West Commons

"Thomas... Thomas Marborough. I'm, uh... I'm an Engineer."

Not that it wasn't obvious. His coat, his badge, his human body. But he said it anyway.

Dolce remained a curiosity, which was sure saying something for a Voldoan, but the idle chat had to stop for now. The other Tier II had returned with a replacement joint, a bundle of rod segments, and a heavy satchel of tools all clinging to his person. "Should be enough..." He said, with a bit of a grunt, as he laid all the items down near the flesh golem. "Now... who actually gets to do the job?"

"I'll take care of it. Shouldn't be long."

"Well... alright then, thanks. Take care."

Thomas nodded, and the Engineer turned and wandered off. The young man assembled the parts and tools, kneeling before the flesh golem's leg. He turned his head back towards Dolce, seeing she was still watching intently. He shrugged, and turned back towards the leg.

First things first. The joint. He took a hefty cutting tool from the satchel and began severing the tendons overlapping the broken component.

Voldoa: City of Monsters (A meeting among Tarblatt, certain Engineers, and the Hands will be conducted soon.)

Thomas Marborough

---

November 18, 3:45 PM
West Commons

"Will it be alright?"

Thomas turned and lowered his head at the sound of the voice. He looked down at the… at the doll that had just questioned the flesh golem’s future health. His eyes widened a bit, and his lips pursed in slight confusion. Yes, the moth-man was a sight, but… this was a manmade entity.

“Ahhh…” Thomas said, turning his gaze back towards the flesh golem. Oh, he was certain it would be back upright once the leg was fixed, but the whole doll thing was still strange to him. “Yes, he’ll… he’ll be back in working condition, once we repair his leg.” He took another gander at the overall damage, wondering just what caused it. From what he could see, it simply looked like the flesh golem had tripped and hit its leg against a hard surface. Fence or wall, maybe. Couldn’t have been deterioration, the parts all looked to be in good condition.

His mind wandered back from those thoughts as he redirected his head towards the doll. And, out of the blue, he inquired, “Who… I’m terribly sorry for asking but, who are you?”

Voldoa: City of Monsters (A meeting among Tarblatt, certain Engineers, and the Hands will be conducted soon.)

I have edited my post to meet the needs of our lovely GM and a fellow rp member.

@TheMusketMan

Again, I'm really sorry I had to make you do that. From now on I'll make proper announcements if any of my folks are busy.

Thomas will be busy with Dolce in my next post. Kantus however has just freed up, so if anyone breaks a leg they can go visit him.

Voldoa: City of Monsters (A meeting among Tarblatt, certain Engineers, and the Hands will be conducted soon.)

I want to make a note that while my recent posts have been pretty hefty, I can almost certainly assure you folks that it's purely because they were collabs, and they will get shorter very soon.

Voldoa: City of Monsters (A meeting among Tarblatt, certain Engineers, and the Hands will be conducted soon.)

Thomas Marborough and Knox

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November 18, 3:43 PM
West Commons

Thomas reeled back a bit as the airborn Voldoan flew right over his head, leaving him a bit confused and surrounded by some lost letters and packages. Thomas looked down at the scattered mess, then back up ahead to see the same Voldoan - a courier, he deduced - landing at the doorstep of a nearby residence. And even from this distance, he could see the courier scrounging through his satchel attempting to find a certain something. After a moment of pause, Thomas decided to gather up all the dropped parcels and bring them over to the Voldoan courier. He held the boxes in his hands with the letters stacked on top and headed in the courier's direction quickly.

Knox held back his hand from knocking on the door of the small abode he stood in front of. Was his bag lighter? Where was the smallish parcel for this location? He had ONE in his hands, but on his register it said that there was another for this address. Panic rising, Knox quickly rifled through his bag, in an attempt to find the package.

"Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Did I drop parcels off too early once again? Oh dear, I must have left the bag open again."

Knox's antennae moved in a nervous flurry. He was fiiiiine! He would just retrace his steps and find the exact spot that he had dropped his deliveries, he would find it quickly from the air. At least he hoped. With one final search through the bag at his side, he prepared to let loose sigh of despair.

"Excuse me?" Thomas called out as he approached, "Sir?"

Knox whirled around to face the voice, antennae still moving at high speeds. His red compound eyes were wide and bulbous with terror as he turned and looked around. He spotted the young man approaching him and pointed to his own face. His wings fluttered slightly as he saw the man approaching with bundle of parcels in hand.

"Do you mean me, Sir?"

"Yes I, uh..." Thomas replied, holding out all the letters and packages he'd picked up, "I saw you drop these on your way overhead. Here."

Knox took the parcels and letters eagerly, depositing them in the bag gingerly before zipping it up once more. Maybe he just hadn't zipped it up? Oh well, hopefully that wouldn't happen again.

"Ahh yes, my deliveries! Thank you very much, friend!" Knox held out his now-free hand in greeting, "My name is Knox, of the Looking Glass Personal Delivery Service! And I thank you for your assistance in this day's deliveries."

"It's no problem. My name's..." He was a little distracted by Knox's eyes staring straight at him. He hadn't yet encountered a Voldoan like Knox until now. "Thomas..." He slowly snapped back to attention and extended his own hand, shaking the... moth-man's, he guessed the name.

"A pleasure to meet you, friend Thomas!" His tone, whilst chittering and slightly... insectoid in nature, was friendly at can be. Friendly enough to turn heads in the immediate area. The delay in the man's speech was almost palpable, but Knox took it in stride. "You are slightly puzzled, yes? Worry not, we Moth-people are as docile as they come, swear on my cocoon!"

Thomas nodded. "Pleasure to hear all that then." He responded, "I'm, I'm sorry for my hesitation, it's just that I only move up to Tier II rece-..."

He was cut off mid-sentence by the sound of a loud clang in the distance. The two (and several other passersby) turned their heads to see that a Flesh Golem had trudged its way out of a nearby alley, with a splintered leg ready to snap off its hinge. It let out a bellow before falling to the ground, with quite the audible thud accompanying the motion. Several folks crowded around it while the rest carried on, uninterested. Thomas paused for a moment before turning back to Knox and saying, "I, uh... I should see to that." He started walking in the fallen Flesh Golem's direction, turning back as he did and adding, "Pleasure meeting you!"

Knox wiped off a large compound eye to get a better look at what he had just seen. His chitters began to sound unsure and nervous once more. He gave a small wave to Thomas, eyes set firmly upon the Flesh Golem. "Yes, yes. You've a job to do. The pleasure is mutual, and I hope to..." The Flesh Golem groaned and thumped at the ground slightly. "I hope our paths cross again."

And with that, he turned to the already open door to hand his parcel over.

Thomas approached the fallen Flesh Golem, peering at its leg. The rod was bent and the joint was barely being held together by the meaty growths overlapping it. The Flesh Golem groaned once more, attempting to stand up, but failing, slumping back down. In that moment, Thomas was joined by another Tier II.

"Busted leg?"

"Yeah. The rod could probably be reshaped but that joint needs to be replaced."

"Good eye." The Engineer replied. He pointed over yonder, down the street. "There's a workshop right over there. I'll run over and get a joint and some other parts, just in case. You watch him." He pointed at the Flesh Golem, and Thomas nodded. The Engineer hurried away and left Thomas to stand by the Flesh Golem's head, crouching a bit. And for some odd reason, he began to comfort it.

"Uh... there, there..." He said, "We'll fix you up..."

---

Kantus and Baldwin

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November 18, 4:45 PM
West Commons, Kantus' Clinic

Kantus emerged from the storage room at the sound of Baldwin's clamoring for medical assistance. He approached him, not even the slightest bit interested in hurrying - Baldwin was a frequent visitor - to help a fellow Hand. "Nighttime hysterics again?" He said aloud, in a plainly bored manner.

Baldwin shook his arm out of scratching at his poorly bandaged wounds. He had torn some deep scores out of his chiseled form, but he was made of tougher stuff than that. He could survive a few minutes of dilly and dally from his fellow Hand. "Sadly, yes. Nothing of the fun kind, either." He attempted to stand up straighter, and hold himself with a modicum of respectability, but only suceeded in wincing and groaning more.

"Must we always call it that, Kantus? The term seems so... falsely exciting."

"Hush." Kantus replied, turning his head and motioning towards one of the beds. "Lie down."

"Yes dear. Whatever you say, dear." Baldwin kept a strong face on, chuckling and groaning as he made his way over to the bed before lowering himself slowly. The mattress was as firm as always. The sheets light. "I'm considering reserving one of these beds. What do you think?" He said as he looked up, taking his eyeglasses into his hand with a smirk.

Kantus extended one of his arms out of his coat and unbuttoned Baldwin's vest, revealing the mess of bandages. Scratched open, almost to the point of splitting. Like he'd forgotten what they were for in the first place. Kantus plucked open the bandages with his nails, and then leaned forward. His neck began to elongate and narrow itself as his face dipped down to examine Baldwin's wounds more closely. Baldwin's expression, in the meantime, displayed no interest or lack of comfort. Again, this was frequent for him.

"One of these nights..." Kantus said, raising his head and turning towards a nearby drawer. "You'll claw your own heart out." He opened one of the drawers and began rifling through it.

Baldwin chuckled again, a slightly less pained sound now as he looked at his nails, picking at the blood beneath them with a scalpel. Where had he swiped that? He spoke softly, "Yes, indeed. Maybe it will be reparation for all the hearts I stole in my younger days."

Kantus turned back to his patient, swiping away the scalpel with his one free hand. For the other now held a bundle of thick, gray needles - several adorned with black strings, and one in red.

"Be still."

Kantus placed the scalpel aside and then set his hand on Baldwin's abdomen. With his other hand, he hovered a black-strung needle over the wounds, and then gently inserted it into one of the deepest scratches. He repeated the process several more times, working in order from the most severe wounds up. Baldwin's natural pain tolerance kept him from screaming like any human would. Once he had seven needles lodged in his chest, then came the red one.

"You seem chipper as usual today. I would think you were enjoying yourself."

Kantus didn't reply. He simply inserted the red-strung needle into the center-most location amidst the black ones. Seconds after it was placed within Baldwin's skin, the immediate area around it began to turn a very, very deep red. Like creeping vines, it spread outward, amassing around the points of the black needles. Once the growth had stopped, Kantus' coat rustled a bit as six more arms emerged. He gently placed all eight of his hands on the handles of the needles and steadily removed them, all at once. Once they were separated from the skin, the wounds quickly began to close. A moment passed, and all that was left was a bit of blood. Kantus tossed away the needles in a nearby metal bin, and then tossed Baldwin a rag from the drawers.

Baldwin snatched at the rag, swiping it out of the air and drawing it close to wipe his chest clean. "Wonderful work, as always." He tossed the rag, stained red with his vitae, onto a nearby pan full of instruments. Regard for contamination was not his to have. He stood once more and buttoned his shirt, smiling as he did. "I am thankful, Kantus. Your help is valued as always." He said in his usual jesting tone, fishing into his pocket to grab at a bundle of clip-restrained money. "How much must I owe you this time?"

Kantus picked up the rag that Baldwin had so nonchalantly tossed onto the tray of tools and tossed it in the bin as well. The tray, then, went into a bin of disinfecting liquid. Kantus turned his head back towards Baldwin and paused for a moment, eyeing him.

"Do you enjoy this game you play?"

Baldwin's smile dropped slightly as his eyes rose to the good doctor's own. One arm went to his chest and the other to a pocket. He looked to be feigning offense as he looked on, mouth slightly agape.

"Why, Kantus. Whatever could you mean, with your wounding words?"

Another pause, before the Lord of Owls responded, "No payment this time. You need only promise me a favor."

A quirk of the brow and a click of the tongue was all Baldwin gave before speaking seriously. "Of course, dear." He still dwelled upon the earlier question, but asked regardless. "Will this be an immediate favor, or is this an investment?"

"The latter. I will summon you when, and if, the need arises." Kantus replied, turning away and proceeding towards his desk. "Good day."

Baldwin was already at the door, hand turning the knob. He gave a slight bow of the head to his fellow Hand. "Then you've my assistance when the time comes. For now, I must avaunt. I'll see you at the next meeting. Ciao." And quickly out into the afternoon's chill as he donned his eyeglasses once more and stretched before setting off. He felt much more relieved.