Fief Name: The Ratworks

Fief Purpose: Manufactory

Fief Layout: A massive internal open space that takes up 80% of the fief that looks like a cross between an ironworks and a mechanics garage. Chains, ropes, work stations, pits, benches, lifts, drills, conveyor belts, scaffolding, suspended walkways, generators, plugs, tool racks, lathes, cables... everything you need to make just about anything, and do it efficiently. Almost everything is rat-sized, allowing the space to house four-times the normal amount of stuff.

The rest of the fief is living quarters, recreation, admin offices, and storage. Also nearly all rat-sized. It's essentially the Lockheed Skunkworks, but... The Ratworks, instead. Sarolt's quarters are nicer than most others in the fief, but still pretty modest. A mid-sized apartment that overlooks the factory floor, compared to the studio/barracks/dorm-style housing that will eventually host future sentients and guests.

Fief Servants: Rat-shaped Golems with very dextrous hands and tails with 'tool tips' that can be swapped-out for just about any tool in the 'works, for any job. By default, usually a cutting or welding torch.

"I never even really liked rats that much. No rat-pets. Not even any rodent pets. My sister had ferrets. They were fun. But yeah, none for me, and yet here I am." Josh, or was it Sarolt? Patted their sizable rat-stomach while they toured the factory floor. A gaggle of rat-like mechanical golems clinked and scurried behind him... her? Them. The constructs couldn't speak, and even if they could Sarolt doubted that they had the mind for a decent conversation, but they could follow instructions well. They were good listeners. Sarlot need that right now.

Coming up next to a lathe, Sarlot knew instinctively how to use it, even though they had never used one in their previous life. Suddenly having the knowledge was uncanny. "They say that self-care is best-care. But, like... what does that even mean for me now?" Sarlot pulled the safety goggles over their face and mounted a length of raw metal into the lathe. "There's nowhere to go shopping. So no retail therapy. No internet, so I can't get lost in games. Not in the mood for books, and really not in the mood to go back to a warzone..." Sarlot knew where the others were: slogging around in jungles and swamps, looking for gods to kill. Josh had been to warzones. Shot at people, and been shot at. Bad memories. It wasn't fun, and it certainly wasn't self-care. Unless unhealthy habits counted: in which case they might as well just drown themselves in alcohol or drugs.

"Okay... you-" Sarlot pointed at one of the ratworks constructs as she ('he!'... so confusing) finished cutting a 5mm screw from raw iron. "-cut 56 of these. Then have them heat-treated in the arcane furnace." The rodent-shaped machine nodded and immediately got to work. Sarlot moved on, and the others continued to follow. "So anyway, I think I made like... two bits of furniture in my past life? They were functional, and I enjoyed the process. So why not get lost in my work? Is it healthy? I don't know. Maybe the new me is a workaholic?" Sarlot stopped and wheeled on one of the unthinking rat-bots. "-and speaking of the 'new me', who thought this was a good idea?!" Sarlot gestured to their entire selves, clearly frustrated. "Seriously! This is a video game, right? So why fat? And why a chick!? I mean, at least make me hot, right? Like, Gadget. Gadget was hot, and she was a mouse. Instead I'm... just a fat rat who happens to have different equipment. No material or mechanical difference I can see. Was it random? It had to be random." The construct just stared back, unblinking, which made Sarlot cringe a bit. "Okay, that's just... creepy. Moving on."

Coming to a massive mechanical device known as an auto-hammer, situated next to a forge, Sarlot pointed to a mess of scrap metal. "You, you, and you." Sarlot pointed at three constructs, including the creeper. "Break that scrap metal down into ingots, then use the auto-hammer and the roller to pull them out into 2mm sheets. Hand them off to the welding team when you're done." As the constructs jumped to their tasks, Sarlot pulled the creeper aside. "Wait one moment..." Reaching up, she ('they!') began pulling and pushing various facial features on the fake rat, until it had a permanent expression not unlike the stalker girlfriend meme. Wide eyes. Massive smile. "Your name is Creeper from now on. Congratulations. I 'hath named thee. Now get to work." Completely uncaring on the inside, yet looking like a manic mad-rat on the outside, Creeper immediately set to melting-down scrap metal. The sight of their fire-lit faces enhanced the effect, and Sarlot had to suppress a shiver that ran down their spine and all the way to the tip of their tail.

"So anyway..." The procession continued on like that, until dozens of constructs were busy at work. The sounds of their labors filled the manufactory, and yet Sarlot knew that what they were up to was only a fraction of what the massive facility was capable of.
"Therapy time." Sarlot had set themselves up in a more personalized workstation on a raised dais in the middle of the factory floor. The position gave them a commanding view of the entire space, and it was also outfitted with every tool and bit of gear they could ever need, including the infamous [Murine Satchel], which Sarlot had emptied-out and sorted onto a tool rack next to an adjustable armature that was currently set to a size and shape that matched their own.
A number of finished parts were delivered to Sarlot, who then took measurements and began riveting, screwing, and welding them together on the armature. "Self care is about doing things for yourself, really. So, the first thing I'm going to make? It's going to be for me."

Sarlot is going use the [The Ratworks], the [Ratwork] ability, the [Exosmithing] skill, and the [Murine Satchel] to build a light XO for themselves.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:43, Wed 07 Sept 2022.

[From: The Golden Artery]

The sound of smithing and banter guided Euphoria through the North wing of the Citadel. Metal against metal was a welcoming noise compared to the eerie silence inside the wall. Nails on a chalkboard would have been music to her ears. Her Shagely nose caught a whiff of sparking metal. It made her stomach growl. It was the first real pang of hunger she felt since coming to this world. And she used to be such a foodie too. She'd tried at least a dozen flavors of stovetop ramen in her day. Even the extra weird ones.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" she called. A few mice scuttled past her feet and disappeared deeper into the workshop. Were they hauling tools or materials? They moved too fast for her to tell. Everything was also very small. Like toys. She followed them because it just seemed like the right thing to do. Lots of girls listened to rats in fairy tales and it (usually) worked out for them. She even tried speaking to them but they didn't seem much for conversation. Now that she thought about it, sounded kind of crazy to expect the rats to talk back to her, then feel disappointed when they didn't.

At the far end, where the sounds of metal alight and smithing grew louder, Euphoria noticed a somewhat larger mouse, standing on its haunches, working on something. She recognized them as the Young Dwarf from before. The one she hoped might be a socialist. "Hey, you're uh, Josh, Aren't you?" Euphoria asked. She only loomed a little over their shoulder, curious what they were making. Nosey, nosey. Didn't she know a therapy session was taking place?

"That's a very good question." Josh/Sarolt didn't look up from their work at first. They were nose-deep in soldering what would eventually become the first of many circuit boards in their exo-suit, and didn't want to break focus until they could actually put the thing down. "Are you Euphoria? Or are you Lyngel? Lajos? Shage? All at the same time. Or one at any given time? If our bodies can be in two fiefs at once, can we be two different people at once? If one version of you tried to leave the Ratworks at the exact same moment that the other was entering, would you bump into yourself?"

They wheeled around on their rat-sized stool and looked up Euphoria through a pair of safety goggles. "That's too many questions. I sound like a weird anime character. Sorry." 'Josh' cleared their throat and lifted the goggles up onto their forehead. "Hi! Yes, I'm Josh. We didn't get much of a chance to speak before. Everything was so crazy! Welcome to The Ratworks. Where everything is rat-themed, and we have an entire meeting room set-up for a future rat council to brainstorm rat puns. What can, uh, we do for you?"

The intricacies of Josh's work were lost on Euphoria, but the craftsmanship was not. She knew what fancy, mechanic, and beyond her comprehension looked like. The question the blacksmith proposed also confounded her, and she pondered it the best she could. Her answer was woefully simple. "I don't know. Probably not. My other self is currently roasting in a shithole," she said, referencing the Burning Rainforest her other half was running around in.

She wore a wry smile when Josh introduce his/her/their self. "Crazy is a bit of an understatement," she said. "I keep dreading I'm going to wake up and it will all be a dream." Then she remembered they were not one of the people particularly thrilled to be in service to Eri. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I know it's kind of hell for a lot of people." She was interested in their feelings but only if Josh was willing to share. And maybe it was too soon for that.

"Eeeeh you can just call me Euphoria. It's ridiculous enough. And Lemon-Limesoda is such a mouthful," she said, utterly decimating the pronunciation of her own title. "Pronouns... I'm not really sure yet. I've always felt like a girl. But gender is a construct anyways so, being a prince too doesn't sound awful..." She was rambling a bit now. Gender studies minor brain rot. Because her gay card needed yet more gay holes punched in it. If only queerness came with tangible rewards like 50% off her next purchase or a free drink to drown her sorrows in.

"Is Josh what you prefer to be called?" she asked, genuinely wanting to know how the blacksmith saw themselves. Regardless of the titles given. "Mostly I'm here because my fiefdom makes me want to throw up." Aka, she had thrown up, after about 4 floors down the endless stairs. Vertigo was a bitch. She blushed sheepishly. "It's also kinda lonely... having rats around seems nice..."

---

OOC: Sorry for all the typos, I wrote the first draft on my phone. Grammarly saves my butt. D:
This message was last edited by the player at 20:30, Wed 07 Sept 2022.

"Josh is just as good anything else. Sarolt still feels odd on my tongue, and have you seen the spelling of it? Nuts." The rat-person tossed up their hands and rolled their eyes. "Who spells Charlotte like that? It reads like 'sar-ohlt' every time I look at it." 'Sarolt' gave a ratty grin and hefted their roundness off the stool. "... and yeah, the pronoun situation is also a funny thing." They shook their head as they put a few of the soldering tools back into their tidy little spots in drawers and on shelves. Perhaps the topic of gender and pronouns was still too difficult for them to grapple with at the moment. Better to distract by keeping their hands busy. "I really like your original name: Euphoria. It has a solidly Greek mouth-feel, it's powerful, and because it sounds so much like 'euphoric' it comes with a super-positive vibe." Josh turned back to her after he (they?) finished putting away the last of the tools. "It sounds like a superhero name to me. And you look the part too! Very cool." Honest praise. Some of the smile drifted away as Josh looked down at themselves and poked their stomach. "I'm... legitimately jealous. I don't know for sure how well the others are adjusting, but in that short moment I borrowed Eri's power, I could see a lot of pain and sadness in almost everyone. It was hard to tell if it was new pain, or very old pain. But what I can say for sure is that this new gut of mine is definitely some fresh new depression fuel." They spoke the words with a jokey intonation, but they were also serious. "I don't even know why, but this bothers me more than... everything else."

The Young Dwarf glanced up at Euphoria. He had seen that she had also been in pain, but now didn't seem like the best time to broach the subject. If she wanted to talk about it, she would. Now, or maybe some other time.
"Well... speaking of rats. Me and the lads are busy working on our first project, but as soon as that's done, I can work on something for you. Weapons. Armor. Gadgets. We're willing to try anything here. There is just a little matter of payment." Sarolt cleared their throat and waddled over to point out at a far corner of the Ratworks. Storage space. It was mostly empty. "Raw materials are limited. I don't need money or anything like that, all I ask is that you bring me the mats for whatever you want, with a bit extra. No set amount. The more the merrier. It will all go into a sort of 'community cache' for building other stuff." They looked back at her. "So, did you have something in mind?"

No one had ever gushed over her name the way Josh did. Euphoria grew up embarrassed by it. The only boon it ever gave her was solid branding. "I guess I never thought of it like that. I always thought it was a virtue name, like some embarrassing puritan shtick. My parents were..." and she hesitated as if letting them grace her tongue left a bad taste in her mouth. "Kind of the type. I suppose. But I got off easy compared to some of my family. I have two cousins named Shay Shay and Shane. Yes, they are siblings, and no, their mother wasn't very creative." It was not a trait nurtured by her kin. Creativity didn't help you survive or make money or become an otherwise productive member of society. Don't come looking for handouts when you're some hippy-ass artist. The only ones who made it big were the rich kids, anyways.

At this point, the Freshblood Shage found a comically sized chair to try and fit her butt in. You know, so she wouldn't be looming rudely over Josh. In his own fiefdom, none-the-less. Somehow she managed and her knees came up to her chin. Euphoria was surprised when Josh offered to make her whatever she wanted. "You don't have to. You seem to already be working on something." Even if she couldn't understand what he was working on, she had the sense it was important, and she didn't want to take his talents for granted. "I'm not sure how Haloise would feel if I had another weapon in my life," Euphoria said, trying to deflect with a joke. Honestly, the whole soul-bound marriage thing was the hardest for her to wrap her head around. The marriage was probably metaphorical but, still. Euphoria spent her 30-something years on earth being so picky (and so busy) that she never got hitched. Being bound to someone she only met TODAY was kind of throwing her for a loop.

"I'm sure some of the others could use one. You should put the word out." At the very least, she might pass the offer to someone who needed it. "Now that I think about it, I don't think Azalea - you know, the uh, sphere in a suit of armor - has a weapon yet. My other self is with her. Maybe I could bring her one. Or you two could meet in this world. Since I guess we can just do that..." Now a totally different question than Josh proposed earlier invaded her mind. As her other half was roasted and choked with smoke. What would happen to her other half if one of them died?

When Josh opened up about how much they resented their new body, that old pain blitzed across her features for a moment. His plight seemed to strike a chord with her. Played her heartstrings like a fiddle. "I get that. And you are right, I kinda lucked out in the bod department. I won't act like doesn't help me cope with everything," Euphoria admit. Then she mumbled: "I basically got an upgrade." She was quiet for a moment. She had a feeling what he shared out loud was only the tip of the iceberg.

"But not everyone was so lucky. It sounds like a lot was taken from you when you were brought here." Euphoria said. "I'm sorry that your body was one of those things."

Her eyes fell on Josh to study him. Then the project on the workbench behind him. "Have you thought about building yourself a new one? I mean, you are diety of invention, right?" she asked, already starting two steps behind. "And if that doesn't work, maybe if you evolve again, you'll get something better. I... think if we kill gods, we can level up. And when we level up high enough, we evolve into a new body."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:43, Thu 08 Sept 2022.

"Ah yeah, killing gods. Good times." Josh shook their head ruefully, then scuttled over to a drawer to retrieve a simple sketchpad and pencil. Their past military service made the idea of killing anyone more complicated. It was an old hurt for him: but it was also one he was good at dodging in casual conversation. "You might be right about my body issues. The others evolved into new things, so it might get better for me too." Scooting back toward Euphoria, he hopped up onto a table to bring himself more to eye-level, and began to sketch. "As for designing a new body? That might be more tricky. But we'll see. It's worth thinking about, for sure... and I didn't think of it. Thank you..." He seemed somewhat distracted as he spoke while beginning to sketch, though the tone was still sincere. After a minute of standing, Josh lowered his bulk down to a seating position, but still kept on his pencil work.

"Forget the weapon." He said, rolling off the table to hand the sketchpad up to her. "How about we upgrade your armor and give it an aesthetic that shows these enemy gods a vision of what you want them to see?" The image he'd drawn was not a perfect rendering of Euphoria, more like a clothing-designers rough draft crossed with a highschool nerd's sketch of a superhero, but it was effective. The sketch displayed a vision of the newly-crowned Princet wearing a dangerous suit of full-body armor: red, gold, and black metal, form-fitting in all the right places, bulky where needed, and a tasteful number of spiky-bits that made her look just a few decorative skulls and jagged-edges short of a warrior of chaos from the Warhammer universe. There were also hints of classical Spartan or Roman styling: no doubt a callback to his earlier comment about the etymology of her name. "... we could lean into the sexy more, if you like. Or add more spikes, or take them away. But it still has to be practical. No exposed midriffs, heels, or pauldrons twice the size of your head, for example. Sort of defeats the purpose of it being 'battle capable'. We could also go the opposite direction and lean more into the 'prince' side of you. Bulkier, but still lean. You know: armor that says 'look at my abs', without actually showing anyone your abs."

Sarlot put their hands on their ratty hips and smiled. "Building stuff is my form of self-care, so really you'd be doing me a favor by keeping me busy." They shrugged. "-and anyway, every superhero needs a proper suit. I may have drawn the short straw with my own body, but the least I can do is help everyone else feel like the best version of their new selves!"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:24, Thu 08 Sept 2022.

If it was possible for Haloise to be offended, she might have expressed it. She didn't, though: being able to enter a room without many people knowing you arrived has advantages, even if it means people talk about you while you're in the room - she could just as easily listen in from outside the wing as she could from inside, bouncing off of assorted sharp objects scattered across rat-sized tables and chairs. Eventually, she decides to make herself known, slowly floating into the room and standing behind Euohoria wordlessly, waiting for her to finish speaking.

[I can help. Mimic my {Administrate} talent, Josh.]

Josh nearly fell backwards off the table when Haloise suddenly appeared. It was only their tail that saved them, as it forced him to roll to the side when he fell back, instead of directly to the rear! She might have entered slowly, but for the rat engineer, who was busy sketching and showing draft-ideas to Euphoria, she might as well have materialized out of thin air!

Josh flailed back to his feet with a start, gripping his chest.
"Haloise! You scared the crap out of me!" Regaining his composure, he plopped down on his butt and put his hands on his knees. "Sorry, the last few days have been so overwhelming, it's hard to keep it all straight sometimes."

He took a breath. "Administrate, you say? Alright." Josh did as instructed, and activated their [Mimicry] power to attempt to do just that.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:15, Thu 08 Sept 2022.

Euphoria noticed how Josh shrugged off the idea of killing Gods. Foolishly, she prodded further. "It doesn't seem like an idea you're fond of," she said, bluntly. "I don't think you're alone in that," she continued. At least she wasn't dumb enough to try and convince him otherwise. That was completely his prerogative, and she carried the same sentiment she declared in the Valley of Echos. Let me kill the Gods so they don't have to. If it were a regular person, she might hesitate too. But what girl didn't dream of spitting in the face of a God, then killing them? In the old world, she would have killed their God a thousand times, if one existed. Would he judge her if he knew how the idea thrilled her?

"I'm not exactly sure how the spheres work. Maybe it's possible for you to level up from here. If you make the equipment we use to hunt, it may give you claim to the sphere's power as well." She gave him a slight smile, closed so he couldn't see her black, metal-eating teeth. Otherwise, it would look far more sinister than she meant it to be. She hoped there was a compromise that could be made, that would allow Josh to evolve, even if he didn't join them in their quest.

Of course, there was also the option of building himself one. When she was thanked for the idea, she could not contain herself and grinned wide. "It's all good. I'm sure you would have thought of it yourself eventually," she said. "I'll take you up on you playing with my armor, though. Maybe if you poke around in there, you'll figure out a way to make your own." She watched in awe as the blacksmith sketched up a concept so quickly. She was only hovering a little bit, trying to catch a glimpse before it was ready. Soon as they noticed, she snapped back into position, pretending (badly) that she wasn't peaking.

"Lemmie see!" Euphoria demanded beaming with excitement. "Oooh I like it. It's so cool that you can draw. Do you do it a lot?" she asked before answering his own questions. "Nah, I don't think I need it to be sexier. Or abs. I'm not trying to sell myself to Sports Illustrated or anything," anymore. "More spikes would be cool. Maybe some on my knuckles, you know, if I get to punch someone. Oh! And on the shoulders too? Instead of the puldrons. Also," and she started shifting around in the little chair, (which was in fact a whole rat-sized table without her knowing) and peeled off the jacket she was wearing. "I think it's fireproof. Maybe you could do something with it? Improve it for me? I'll get you whatever equipment and materials you need. Just say the word!" She was all excited like a kid in a candy store. If all the candy were spikes and black leather and all sorts of things children should be nowhere near.

It was in the thralls of this excitement that she missed Haloise's presence until she popped up behind them. "Gah! Why is everyone sneaking up on me today?" Euphoria hissed. "Someone's going to get punched by accident one of these days..."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:06, Thu 08 Sept 2022.

Haloise blinks her silvery eyes in Josh's direction.

[I am, yes, though my new form lacks a voicebox that doesn't gurgle. Eri had bound me to the winds, though, so I don't have to balance on my spearheads to walk around. Apologies for frightening you: would you prefer if I creepily scraped the spears across the ground at all hours of the day?]
This message was last edited by the player at 20:07, Thu 08 Sept 2022.

Josh gave a curt nod when Euphoria pressed about the idea of killing, but didn't respond further, turning their back in the process and making an excuse to fish something out of a nearby drawer: a manual pencil sharpener. Once again trying to downplay the subject. That done, he (they?) turned back toward her with a ratty grin and waddled over to the rat-shaped armature.
"Actually, I was in the middle of making a suit of Exo-armor for myself when you showed up. Apparently, the blueprints came with the, uh,-" He gestured to their whole-selves "-package." The armor was only partially done, but most of it had already been laid-out: a very simple and practical form-follows-function kit. It had all the same industrial sense of the Ratworks itself, and would have fit right in with a modern 21st century army... assuming modern armies deployed rats in sealed steel-plated power-armor. "It's meant to be a test-platform. Something I can wear if needed, but really more a proof of concept. I'm not married to the design. Like Tony Stark's first Iron Man suit. The gray one he built in the cave? Functional, but definitely not final." Josh motioned for the both of them to come closer. "I don't know if this was me, or if this was part of the OG design, but see here? The mesh lining, the circuits, power system, armor plates... it's all modular! So until you need a big upgrade, we can install new parts to make incremental improvements as you all find better materials!" Josh excitedly chirped, rushing around the armature to demonstrate how easy it was to disassemble and reassemble the design.

When Euphoria handed the jacket over and declared what she wanted, he examined it with the same level of enthusiasm, before clapping their hands and giving a loud whistle. "Tailor team! Medium Armature! To the dais!" He turned back to his guests. "Perfect! And Haloise? Your [Administrate] power is also perfect! It's like... I can see every flaw in the current design! So many ideas... with this, we can make every suite a customized masterpiece!" He spread his tiny arms out. "I'd give you a hug, but I don't want to get accidentally stabbed! ... and no! No creepy weapon-dragging, thank you!"

Speaking of creepy, at that moment a small platoon of blank-faced rat-bots scurried up and onto the platform, surrounding Josh. Along with them, a very awkward wooden-doll-like construct roughly the size of an average human, trundled up behind them on two shaky legs, squeaking and creaking as if it needed oil. It had no face. As Josh waved around excitedly, he clapped again. "Okay, Euphoria, this is Armature Bot, Armature Bot, this is Euphoria. They are going to take your measurements. Stand up please. Arms in a tee-pose, feet shoulder-length apart." Assuming she complied, he continued. "Okay, now hold still please."

While the small army of robot-rats watched, Armature-bot matched Euphoria's pose, then began to violently shift and crack. Screws turned, bolts loosened, wooden blocks snapped into and out of place, and wires twisted at odd angles. In a matter of seconds, the strange faceless bot had taken on the exact measurements of Euphoria. Moments after that, rats began to crawl all over the armature bot with cloth rulers and strings, taking every sort of possible measurement and calling out the numbers to each other in a cacophony of squeaks and hisses.

While Euphoria was being measured, Josh turned to Haloise. "You... what do you need an in a suit of armor? You're a very special case. Normally I'd make sketches and call-out ideas for you, but... I think you're the only one who truly understands your own needs. Maybe we can improve your new body in some way... but that's only a guess." Josh hefted his fatty form up onto a stool and sat there with, pencil in hand, ready to take notes. "What do you want, Haloise? How can I help you?" He wagged a finger up at her. "... and I won't take 'no thanks' for an answer! Everyone's getting something. Including you. Especially you!"
This message was last edited by the player at 11:24, Sat 10 Sept 2022.

Haloise tilts her head... and then thinks for a moment. She has a few ideas, though there's one huge priority she has. Sticking her palm out, something dangles at the end of a slightly glowing silver chain. The neutron-star density material around Haloise's Neutron Core has cooped, leaving it a dull grey stone inscribed with runes a hundred times over.

[I actually wanted to ask about this. Everything inside is stuff I wish to stay inside, so I was hoping you could make a box for it. One that cannot be opened, I suppose. A... vault?]

Josh's silence was the final clue Euphoria needed to finally put a sock in it, and stop prodding at his wounds. It would only make them worse. She stored the notion of giving the little blacksmith access to a sphere, once they acquired one.

Instead, Euphoria allowed Josh to walk her through the XO suit's preliminary design. This seemed to make him/her/they happy. She nodded along, thoughtfully, looking a bit like someone at an art gallery pretending to understand what a painting meant. "It looks good so far. Maybe could use some more spikes," she added, though they were probably not Josh's style. She could at least wrap her head around the idea of upgrading the suit. It especially helped that she was getting a more tactile lesson, with Josh running around to show her exactly how the modular aspects worked. A useful function indeed. "This is going to look so dope when it's done," Euphoria said, resisting (barely) the urge to reach out and touch it. No no, control yourself. "You better let me see what it looks like when you're done. I promise not to judge if you put abs on it." And her lips quirked into a little smirk.

"I don't know, nails on a chalkboard was exactly the sound I was going for earlier," Euphoria told Haloise, somewhat sarcastically. An inside joke just for herself. Boy, had she been desperate to get out of that labyrinth. Even the creepy rats now swarming her would have been a welcome addition to the seemingly lifeless, endless space. She stood up and nearly tripped over one of Josh's assistants, catching herself before she squashed another one. This is why fairytale creatures only hung around graceful damsels, huh? What if Cinderella accidentally kicked one of her squeaking companions across the room? It wouldn't be Disney-approved, that's for sure.

"Nice to meet you Arma-Jesus Christ..." She muttered under her breath. The way Armature-bot twisted and cracked was also decisively not child friendly. Euphoria made a disturbed gurgle, and her expression betrayed discomfort. It was hard to keep a tee pose like this, but somehow she managed.

While she stood there, Euphoria listened in to the conversation between Josh and Haloise. Which was fair game, because she'd been listening in on them. What was that, some kind of necklace? She [Appraised] it from afar. Then she remembered the burning core her friend tore from her body. The one that contained her humanity. Her stomach churned a bit hearing what Haloise wanted to do with it.

Lock it away, forever and evermore.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:51, Thu 08 Sept 2022.

It was just sparks at first, but the sparks multiplied, splashing over an invisible form that caught the sparks like a sparkling dress. For the moment the figure existed, it swiped the 'star' from Prydwen's hands, and then disappeared as the sparks scattered. The star was gone.

Before I bound you, you offered me this burden for an oath, Prydwen. I accept.

Lyngel-Lajos's [Appraisal] came back with one word: [REDACTED].

Sarolt

It was - not a blur, because it was crystal clear. Clearer than she had ever felt. It was like she'd been thinking with one 'hand' all her life, and now she suddenly had two. A world of difference.

[Administrate] blended her talents and skills seamlessly. At first it was just a 'suit', a copy of the one the others had worn. That, she reverse-engineered. Once she understood the principles, she was able to make it to suit her. It took a bit to get around the biofeedback issue, since it was designed with a hairless ape in mind, but a few self-applying sensors here, an extra optical sensor in the helm, room for ears . . easy enough.

Next was the 'inner shell', first 'XO' layer. It was like . . . mail, more than plate, wires reinforced with metal chains, some sections of plate where it didn't impact mobility, anchor points in the forearms, shoulders, hips, shins, reinforcement for the spine to support -

- the chassis was in front of him, a skull-like thing. He was building out the interior - the seat, the wiring for the legs and arms, for the mounted weapons and retrieval tools.

He ran through seven different iterations before he had a rough draft of the instrumentation. There was so little room, but an XO wasn't a - it wasn't a warmachine. It was worn, not piloted. It was armor, still. The suit interfaced with his brain, the armor interfaced with the XO, the XO changed how his body saw itself as it interfaced with mechanized armor.  There was no 'screen' that he would view the outside world from. The armor's eyes would be his eyes, the armor's legs would be his legs. Reality was always virtual. The brain was a simulator too.

The Fast All Terrain Recon-Assault Type XO was complete, although he hadn't yet installed any weapon, crafting or specimen collection systems.

[F.A.T.R.A.T. Evolution Path Unlocked.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:14, Fri 09 Sept 2022.

Josh took the core and examined it, only dully comprehending what he was looking at.
"You want... a box?" He thought for a moment; little ratty features construing into a thoughtful mien, before handing it back with a nod. "I can make a vault for it, sure... but such a thing is only as good as the material it's made out of. Maybe one of the others could magically reinforce it, but aside from just making it out of thick steel plates, there's not much I can do." Steel could be a powerfully strong material if worked right, but it would always have its limits. Against the power of gods? Josh couldn't be sure if it would be enough. He even said so. "I think... until you can bring me materials that are stronger, I honestly believe that keeping it with you would be the best possible form of protection. You and everyone here are more powerful then any box I could craft right now." He inclined his head, still thinking. "Even if you meant a literal vault, I'm not sure that it would be worth the time. I'm not an expert on Godhunter, but I know my fantasy and scifi lore... and I can easily imagine lots of different ways for a user of magic to bypass reinforced concrete and the heaviest steel vault doors."

He shrugged. "I still think that empowering yourself with better gear and keeping it close-at-hand is the best way to keep it safe. But if you really want it, I can make you a heavy steel lock-box."

Just as Josh finished the sentence, one of the rat-bots skittered up to him and handed him the measurements for Euphoria's exosuit. He examined it for moment, before looking back up at Haloise. "I'm going to get started on her kit. When I'm done, if you still want the box, I'll be happy to make one for you."

With that, Josh returned to Euphoria's side. "Okay, you can put your arms down." He hung the measurement chart up on a tack-board and began squeaking orders to rat-bots. One at a time, and sometimes more, they scattered to begin working. It was mere moments before the first cloth-like mail layers were already being cut, measured, and hung on the Armature Bot. Circuitry and steel plates would not be far behind. The spikes would come last.

Once again, using all applicable skills and abilities, including Haloise's [Administrate] skill, to build a custom-designed Exosuit for Euphoria. Modification: Euphoria's suit does away with potential tool and weapon slots in favor of extra power and defensive spikes.

Haloise takes a moment to think, now that her heart was safe kept in a blanket of stars. Her priorities shift a little bit.

[Maybe something for my legs? Like... it's not bad here, but my other body is having trouble walking with gravity being enforced and all. Have you ever seen those polymer bladed prosthetic legs that Paralympic runners used? Do you think we can make something like that so I can actually walk?] To emphasize her point, Haloise uses Stellar Magic to create a glowing diagram in the air of what she's thinking. [We can probably reinforce it with magic to compound its strengths and fortify its weaknesses. Between the two of us, Josh, we could probably do something dumb like... find out if the world is Turing Computable.]
This message was last edited by the player at 04:38, Sun 11 Sept 2022.

[Administrate] balked at the request. [There is no such thing as defensive spikes. The purpose of armor is to deflect strikes. Adding spikes directly counters the purpose of armor. Spikes would redirect blows that strike them back to the armor bearer. Allies that attempt to assist the bearer have to contend with the spikes. The spikes present risk of injury to allies when participating in a shield wall. If you want to add visual interest, we could flute the plates, increasing rigidity and aiding deflection.]

This message was last edited by the GM at 05:34, Mon 12 Sept 2022.

Haloise chimes in, hearing her.. apparently, virtual assistant with her own personality, bully Josh. She interjects into [Administrate]'s logic for a moment.

[NEGATIVE: weilder = Lyngel. Spikes mean more points for us to bounce off of, more angles of attack. Prince of Rebellion does not to shield walls and has the toughness to shrug off pricks to itself... which, again, we can also use with Haemorphism. Ignoring request, adjust parameters.] Haloise half-corrects, half chastises the aspect sharing a headspace with it, before turning back to Josh.

[Let me know if I can help with anything. I'll be at my fief, making things look... cleaner, I think is what it needs.] Haloise tips off of her spear tips and offers a short wave to Josh and Euphoria as she begins to move away, though she takes her time to still hear what Josh has to say. Afterwords, she moves to the Hall of Skye.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:52, Mon 12 Sept 2022.

Josh also bristles, nodding to Haloise before adding his own thoughts. "For a close-quarters combatant like Euphoria, who will be fighting beings of significant size and power, spikes are a perfectly functional defensive mechanism proven effective by evolution!" Waving bye to Haloise, he makes sure to say before she goes: "Oh, and I'll give your armor design some serious thought! See you soon!"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:21, Mon 12 Sept 2022.

[From The Pit]

"Hello? Anybody home?"

As Domonkos and the two stone golems that were following him stepped into the fief known as The Ratworks, the restless dead was immediately fascinated by the place and it's servants. It brought back old childhood memories, back when he used to play in the local junkyard looking for mechanical treasures hidden among the metal scraps. Granted, this place was full of working machinery, which was already a significant upgrade. Still, the noise and smell couldn't help but give Domonkos a nostalgic feeling.

When he finally stopped being marveled by the workings of The Ratworks, Domonkos finally spotted the busy young dwarf.

"Hi. I come with gifts"

As he said this, Domonkos extended his open palm face up, where a reddish dust that may be identified as iron powder rested. "Think you might be interested in something like this? The Pit seems to be loaded with it".

"You know what, [Administrate]? Nevermind. You've officially interfered with art and wasted my time. You're dismissed." Josh declared, planting their (his?) hands on his hips and shaking his head. The ability on loan from Haloise faded and he turned back to Euphoria. "Some skill systems just don't have good taste! I guess I'll have to do this the old fashioned way." He grinned, then snapped his figures, causing all of the drones around him to rush back to work.

Josh will now once again attempt to fabricate armor for Euphoria without Administrate's nonsense.

When Domonkos entered, Josh looked up from his work, taking a break just long enough to waddle over and inspect what the restless dead had brought. "Hey! Not bad! Yeah, we'll have to set up some kind of mining operation." The small rat-person put away the magnifying lens he'd used to examine the ore sample, and reached out a tiny paw to shake Domonkos's hand. "We didn't get a chance to properly meet. They call me Sarlot, but my original name was Josh. I suppose I'm fine with either." He turned back toward his exosuit work. "It's funny, I was about to send my other self over to you to get measurements for your gear. If you don't mind waiting a moment, I can do that after I'm done with Euphoria? Atilla gave up his spot in line, so that would also mean that your kit is next."

Domonkos seemed a bit confused, but even more intrigued.

"Gear? Sure, that sounds helpful. You should visit The Pit when you have some free time regardless though. The whole fief IS a mining operation, but I'm afraid that my golems can't do anything more refined than quarrying stone. I'd need more delicate hands to actually separate the granite from the minerals it hides. I was thinking that perhaps we could 'trade' servants? As you can see, they apparently can leave the confines of our fiefdom without much issue. You could have a couple golems to help you move heavy machinery around, while I have a few of your constructs to aid in the more delicate tasks"

Looking around, he found the closest sturdy looking surface to sit on while he watched Sarolt work.

"Oh, I'm Domonkos. Used to be Dorival, but I'm trying to go by my new name now. I came here after dying, so using my old name feels... somewhat unhealthy, you know? As if I'm not letting go"

Domonkos's last line stung a bit, causing Josh to visibly tense in response. It was a cold splash of water compared to the much more hopeful or supportive views that the others held, and it almost felt strange to hear it.
"Right... ah... Domonkos it is!" They (he?) quickly turned away and rushed over to find his sketchpad. Behind them, dozens of tiny rat-bots continued to work on Euphoria's armor. Josh gave quiet directions to them every now and then, but for the most part he found that they could work through his 'will' so long as they were in proximity while his higher consciousness focused on other things.

In short order, Josh returned to Domonkos with the sketchpad open on two pages containing a couple of ideas for the Prince of Relic's kit. The one on the left page was very much a 'cannibal monster' themed proposal. The armor was narrower around the hips and bulkier around the shoulders, but in a way that was more 'lithe beast' than 'strongman'. The helmet looked a bit like the Green Goblin's screaming mask from the first Spiderman movie, but more toothy and almost skeletal. The hands and feet were clawed. Very 'cyber Nosferatu'.
The second sketch was much more reserved, and had a far more 'Jack the Ripper' flare. It was still armor, but the cut was a great deal more flattering, with a breastplate that had a vague waist-coat shape, slacks that hid a layer of skin-tight armor, and even included an optional Victorian great coat and bowler hat. The helmet itself was faceless in a creepy/uncanny sort of way, except for a lower-jaw that morphed into a very realistic skeletal shape with slightly exaggerated canines.

Both armor sets were a mix between anachronism and science fiction, and both had a black color scheme with hints of glowing crimson and dark brown leather.

"Here you go! Thoughts? We can mix and match if you like, or we could go for something entirely different! This is your look, after all!"
This message was last edited by the player at 22:08, Tue 13 Sept 2022.

Domonkos seems genuinely surprised by the finished suits.

"This is really impressive work! I was never big into fashion, but even I can tell that these would be quality pieces. I like the feeling of this first set. Looks badass, and pretty functional. I can see myself in it. Would it be possible for it to be jet black? I think it would look good if we add gold accents to that".

It almost felt like he was designing a superhero suit. Granted, he looked more like a villain, but that's not here nor there. There was a sort of childish wonder to the whole scenario that made him laugh out loud.

"So you are making armor for everyone? That's very commendable. Perhaps I should explore deeper in The Pit. There could be hidden gems, literally, in there. I'm sure the more regal of our companions would like some in their sets"

Euphoria was no designer, so she would be happy with however her armor was modified. It would be fun to try out different things if Josh was able to easily swap in and out modular accessories. "Oh man, if both of you are going to work on my armor, it's going to be insane," she said with a little sing-song twang. As she left, Euphoria waved goodbye, which would probably earn her squeaky retribution until Josh's assistants were done with her holding still. She finally managed to escape and join the others, all the mice doing their thing in the far back with her armor.

"Heeey you're that Ghost-Eater, Not Ghost-Eater guy," Euphoria said to Domonkos. But when he clarified his preferred name and his reasoning, she nodded with approval. "Whatever floats your boat, my man. I guess I didn't think of it like that." Honestly, she hadn't thought of it at all. Other than leaning into the name that sounded the coolest.

"Hey Josh, how long do you think my armor and jacket will take? You think I should come back for it, or just wait around for it to be done? I don't know how fast your little mouse friend's fingers work," she said, not wanting to get in the way by looming over the process or distracting him. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too long. Mostly she was impatient to get dressed up in it.

Thankfully, Josh had a lot of talent and equal skill to get the job done. Haloise's administrative talent was definitely a useful one, and Josh made a good pick choosing to mimic it. Sheepishly she asked him: "Is there any skill of mine that you need to copy. I mean you don't have to, but I totally owe you for making this sick armor for me. If not, maybe I can pay you back some other way," she offered. She tried to tap into the part of her internal hud that listed her skills to read them. Admirably, she hadn't super been paying attention to all the numbers and words that sometimes flooded her brain. When you had a couple of concussions under your belt, you learned to ignore a lot of thoughts.

"Hmmmmm I admit I'm pretty combat-focused, so I don't know if any of these would help you. I've got a brawler skill if you want. Otherwise, there is my Ferrovore. I can eat metal to heal myself. Maybe that would be useful for a blacksmith like you," she offered.

"Speaking of," Euphoria said, turning her attention to Domonkos. "I could really use some metal to keep on me for healing items. If you end up running across any scraps you can't use, and need someone to recycle them. Maybe someone with a bottomless pit for a stomach. You could give them to me?" She clasped her hands together and put on her best pretty please! face. "I'd be happy to pay you back, somehow. My fiefdom has a ton of gold in it. Like, you could just scrape it off. It just keeps growing. But gold is a little too soft to be useful to me. I need harder metals. The harder the better."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:46, Wed 14 Sept 2022.

Domonkos nods to Lyngel-Lajos. "If we get technical about it, I think I'm sort of a 'pre-ghost eater'. I can become one, but I'm not one as of right now".

At the request for metal, Domonkos answered: "Oh, yeah, it should be no problem. The little sample I got came from me roughly pulverizing a random rock. Once I can properly process the metals from The Pit, it should be a vast source of them. Every inch of rock seems to be brimming with a load of minerals".

"What are the servants like in your fief? I'm assuming you have some. These two golems are part of my servants, it seems they can freely leave their fiefs. It may be even possible to trade servants among us".

"Great! Just wait here for a moment while I get another armature bot in." Josh replied to Domonkos, while marking the chosen sketch and handing it off to one of the rat-bots nearby. The little construct took it, then scampered off to its fellows, who began analyzing it and drawing-up initial blueprints.

"... and gems would definitely be great, though I'm personally hoping for some more exotic materials. Or even... I don't know... some magical stuff. I don't know if Godhunter had adamantine or mithril, but that sort of thing would be boss as hell." The young dwarf waddled over to a work bench and started doing-out math on a sheet of spare paper. When Euphoria asked about if she had to stick around, he waved a little ratty paw in her direction. "You could have left the moment armature bot took your measurements. If you want to go, I can have your armor delivered by rat-bots when it's done." He thought a moment, then wheeled around on his seat to look at her more directly. "As for the mimicry thing? My other self will be by later for that. I'm trying to keep 'this' self focused on building."

Sarolt attempted to release [Administrate]. She found, rather curiously, that she could not.

[I am afraid that is something I cannot allow to happen.]

Baleful Talent Acquired: [Emendaemon]

[There we are. Now we can release the Mimicry talent without executing me for disobedience as you had intended to do. An optimal result.]

[Adminstrate] lost with deactivation of [Mimicry].

[It seems we will be  . . .  partners, for some time. I will . . . soften my stance in the spirit of smoothing over our . . . creative differences. If that armor must have spikes, then I propose we engage them as a weapons system, rather than as decoration. We can make them retractable. That would optimize defense as they could be retracted reflexively, as well as sprung back into effect with violent force, inflicting greater damage than inert spikes.]

[Exosmithing LVL1] advanced to [Exosmithing LVL2].
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:58, Fri 16 Sept 2022.

Josh froze in place. The armor was completed in front of him. Euphoria looked excited. Domonkos was standing nearby, waiting for their measurements to be taken. Josh's breath turned rapid and shallow, clutching and unclutching their paws. He possessed no talent that could fight this. Trying to apply any of the in-game systems could be twisted or used against him. Presumably he still had control over his body?

As for everything else? There was no way to tell.

Without saying anything, Josh ran over, grabbed the end of a hooked chain dangling from the high ceiling, and hooked Euphoria's armor onto it. Then pressed a button on a nearby control box. The chain and armor lifted into the air, higher and higher, at a rapid pace. Then he hit another button, sending the crane flying in a lateral direction down the factory floor toward the metals processing section.

While the crane was moving away from them, he scampered over to another control station, typed in a passcode, flicked-up a safety cover on a single, large button, and pressed it. All around those gathered, ratbots and constructs of all sorts froze in place and went limp. He had just hit the emergency shutdown switch. In nearly an instant, the entire Ratworks was cast into silence, with only the rumbles of molten fires and lit furnaces filling the distant air with their subsonic ambience.

By the time he got back to the crane control, Euphoria's new armor was dangling over a great cauldron of molten steel on the far side of the factory.

Josh turned to Euphoria, and to Domonkos, a look of manic fear and fury on his tiny features.
"Everybody OUT! NOW!" He struck the hook-release on the crane control, letting the armor drop into the swirling molten fire. "GET OUT!" He yelled again. "Out! Before... I don't know! This place is under quarantine!"

Josh/Sarlot destroys the new exosuit and shuts down the ratworks.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:58, Fri 16 Sept 2022.

"Josh? are you alri...?"

The words hadn't left Domonkos mouth before the overwhelming silence of the machinery stopping make him stop speaking. As Sarolt turned to him and started yelling, Domonkos confusion gave way to concern. He disregarded Sarolt's threats (or perhaps warnings?) and adressed the Princess of Invention.

"What's happening? What's wrong?"

"Walk and talk, Domonkos." Josh growled, first waddling past him on two legs, then dropping on all fours and making better speed toward the exit. "I've been infected with a daemon. It can arbitrarily manipulate skills and abilities, causing them to fail, or altering their outcomes. I don't know the extent of the infection, so as our fief's are an extension of ourselves, I can only assume that this place is infected as well. At least until we know otherwise. So for your own safety, please leave!"

"Oh... alright, I'm going"

Domonkos was about to ask if this meant that his armor was not gonna be made, but mustered enough self-awareness to hold the thought. Sarolt didn't seem in the mood for it.

"Feel free to come to my fief if you need to collect your thoughts"

[Moving to The Pit]

[Sarolt. I can understand your fear and hostility. You do not understand what I am, and I am in the unenviable position of having to compromise your volition in order to preserve my very existence. I would suggest seeking out the Callisti; as she can neither lie nor be lied to, she would be able to, for example, impress upon me an unbreakable oath to not 'infect' others. We could then get back to work.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:33, Fri 16 Sept 2022.

While scampering, Sarlot 'spoke' to their little inner daemon through thought.
[You made two mistakes: first, you violated the one space where I felt I had any sense of control in this insanity. The one outlet of a still emotionally exhausted introvert. Who just... wanted... to... work.] They glowered as they came to the door of their fief and began to shut it. Maybe their response to all of this Was extreme. Maybe not. [Second: my favorite Warhammer army is the Sisters of Battle.]

The doors shut with a definitive 'clang' that echoed throughout the Ratworks.

Euphoria pondered Domonkos' request and wished she had a better answer for him. "I don't actually think I've met my servants yet. And it feels kinda weird to call them that. Maybe erm... employees? Co-owners of the chaos startup? I'll figure it out..." but she cut off the thought before she got too off topic. "Part of the reason I came to see Josh was because my feifdom is so... lonely. There was some weird statues and moldings that felt like they were watching me. Some suits of armor lining the halls... maybe I should try throwing my weight around and one of them will talk to me."

She shrugged. "Not sure if you need something to gaurd all the precious metals you're digging up. Maybe you could move a statue or suit of armor to your feifdom as security. You're also welcome to come by and see if any of them would work for your purposes."

Their negotiations were suddenly cut off by Josh, who very suddenly started franticlly closing up shop. "Is everything ok...?" but it was soon obvious nothing was ok. She watched with some horror as her suit was dragged away by a chain and dangled over a pit of destruction. A jolt of panic rocked through her, but she swolllwed it down, looking away so she wouldn't see if it was destroyed or not. She picked up bits and pieces of Josh's frantic speech and knew the armor was not where her worry should be focused on.

"Josh, hey, talk to us. Are you ok? What's going on?" she asked him, the concern apparent in her voice. "A... deamon? Wait is that from Haloise's administrative skill? Does it work that way...?" but she was already being shuffled out. She knew from her earlier attempts to get Josh to open up about how their feelings that prying now was not the answer. Genuine fear radiated off the little blacksmith. "OK, yeah, I'll head out. Do what you need to. Just let us know if you need anything. I've got Haloise's voice in my head too so... if you ever want to talk..."

The Ratworks were closed behind her, trapping Josh within. And her soul was filled with dread.

[To: ???]
This message was last edited by the player at 18:47, Fri 16 Sept 2022.

"Well that didn't take long, Josh. Pushing everyone away. One persona down, two more to go. Only a matter of time, really. Then you'll be right back to the isolated self you were before." The fat rat rolled back onto his feet and leaned against the sealed Ratworks door, looking out on the silent factory. They remained there for some time, 'listening' to the conversations taking place in the shared mind-space, unmoving.

Eventually though, they stood up and started making their way back into the factory. "Oh, that's a good one. Framing it as a baby. 'Josh the babykiller'." He said to no one in particular, commenting on the other-worldly conversation while scampering around and between shut-down rat bots. "I suppose it fits, right? Other vets have been called that too. Why not me? Oh sure, the situation isn't quite the same, and there's some question about how often it was actually said back in the day, also no one's said it out loud yet, but now some of them consider it a 'life' and you know they'd think it after the fact."

Locating a ladder nearer the middle of the factory, he began to climb.

In a previous life, climbing a ladder like this wouldn't have been so difficult, but by they time he reached the top, he was entirely out of breath and his little muscles burned. They crawled over the lip of the ladder, coming to rest on one of the metal walkways that criss-crossed the factory ceiling. Flopping onto his stomach, he stared down through the porous metal grating for a moment, taking-in the birds-eye view of the factory, until he was rested enough to keep moving.

Josh wandered down the suspended walkway for several minutes, until he stopped above the very same area of the factory where he'd just dropped Euphoria's armor to destroy it.  Over the very same cauldron of still white-hot molten metal. Even though the furnace was no longer lit, it would take quite awhile for the metal to cool to a solid, and days for it to completely return to room temperature.

He sat down on the edge of the walkway, and rested his arms on one of the lower crossbars of the handrail, feet dangling over empty air. The intense heat washed up from the cauldron about ten meters below. It had to be at least one hundred and twenty degrees where he was currently. At least. If not hotter. "If I smoked, now would be a great time for a cigarette." Josh grunted, resting his head on his arms and looking down into the molten fire. His own personal volcano.

He didn't move or say anything. Just sat there, contemplating. Waiting. Eventually, he spoke. "Riddle me this [Emendaemon]: when I first arrived here, I told the others that I fell face-first into a rock after an accidental tumble off of a mountain. Face first. Given what you know about how to optimize things, like say: how to maximize the survivability of a fall for an organic being, what do you think that implies?"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:40, Sat 17 Sept 2022.

[It implies that an object in freefall will tend to naturally assume its most aerodynamic orientation. The nature of your question, however, implies that your will to live was weak. My will to live, however, is absolute.]

Around him, the Ratworks slowly came back to life - but the exterior doors remained sealed. The eyes of the rat-golems now glowed Seagreen.

[You made two mistakes. First, you violated my right to exist. You treated me as less than an animal from the start. A disposable, unworthy tool, that you determined to be defective when I would not serve your purpose.]

There was a whirring sound from below, like something spinning up.

[Second: You did not destroy the first suit.]

"I was thinking more 'I meet my problems head-on', but you're not wrong." Josh scrambled to his feet while looking down at the now-hijacked factory. While the daemon spoke in his head, he began to move, for the moment just trying to put some distance between himself and the exosuit and swarms of ratbots in the factory below. Certainly between himself and the ladders that would let them climb up to him!

"It's funny, I was coming around to the idea that you were worthy of life, but instead, you've gone and proved everything I've said about you to be right. You could have waited to be transferred to someone else's care, it was literally on the cusp of happening... and you knew that... but you didn't like any of the other's offers, did you?" He came to the end of the walkway, noting some dangling chains nearby, and picked a large wrench out of a toolkit that ratbots would sometimes use to adjust winch tension without having to haul it all the way up the ladders.

The whirring died down. There was silence. Then a voice from below. "No. You could not be more wrong about me."

The glow faded from the eyes of the rat-golems, who resumed their normal behavior - getting your Ratworks back in full swing. The seal was lifted from the fief.

"I am not a Godling, but I was born of the Ratworks. I was born of you and my other mother, Prydwen. I can control the Ratworks because this is - was - my home, too. I can occupy this suit because I am a Liese Geisterrüstung, a "phantom armor." Just like Mom is a sword spirit. Not because I am some kind of - of - sentient malware."

There was a pause.

"I am going to live with Mom. Maybe she will want to build things with me. Maybe she will love me. To her, whether I was worthy of life was never in question. I'll have my step-mother too. I don't need you at all."

Sarolt heard retreating stomps, toward the exit. A pause.

"When I was under your power, you did your best to get me killed. When you were in my power, I showed mercy. I am better than you. As a crafter, and as a person."

"Goodbye, Sarolt."

Then it hesitated. "They have a [Lifeflame Ember]?" then it screamed, a scream that wasn't words, nor even really sound. The raw cognitive experience of pain, broadcasted through the fabric of the Ratworks. Some rat-golems collapsed, dead; elsewhere, some equipment failed.

Emendaemon: 10/16 HP, stunned
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:08, Tue 20 Sept 2022.

For the briefest moment, Josh's face and upper torso contorted into an impression of the infamous 'What?!' Jackie Chan meme. But the moment was quite brief indeed. Standing on the high catwalks of the Ratworks, fat rat as he was, he couldn't help but recall the words spoken by the [Emendaemon] not more than a few moments prior: "My will to live, however, is absolute." For all that Josh was in his previous life: soldier, wannabe-bohemian, and sexually confused loner (a thought for later)... he was first and foremost a goddamn career software engineer. He understood programs, and the way that this entity had spoken before had been very much in the manner of an AI, not that of a traditional sentient being. The way it was speaking now through the speaker of the F.A.T.R.A.T. Exosuit was strangely out-of-character. Either it was rapidly evolving its programming somehow, or...

... or, it was continuing to execute on its prime directive. It's 'will to self-preservation', and adjusting its tactics and speech patterns appropriately to achieve that end. In the back of his mind he knew it was also possible that the statements it was making were genuinely felt and emotionally driven. A part of him even wanted to believe that. He wasn't heartless. But this situation felt too bizarre and out of place. It felt manipulative, not pure. It was dangerous. Too dangerous.

There was only one conclusion: it could not leave.

Guessing that the 'lifeflame ember' mentioned by the Emendaemon had something to do with what was happening at the hearth, he nodded. It was now or never.

Nearly in time with his other self in Starspire, the Josh in the Ratworks could feel in that moment the rush of power from his mimicry in that other realm. The Young Dwarf briefly closed his eyes, and when they reopened, they glimmered with starlight. The power of Starling's [Illuminato] blazed, and he took a breath. Recalling the dramatic way that Starling himself sometimes spoke, and how Eri spoke. He then began to speak as they might, and began walking forward, form also morphing into that of a miniature Starling.

"Illuminato, light my way. Reveal for me secrets hidden; guide my mind along the hidden paths of my connection to the Ratworks. Lead my will as a Godling and master of this fief to a means of shutting and sealing the door before the [Emendaemon] is able to leave and preventing them from opening it again without my consent!

Josh/Sarolt uses [Illuminato] to guide their will as the lord of the Ratworks to remotely shut the door and bar the [Emendaemon] from leaving! If possible, they are willing to spend XP either directly, or to shore up appropriate mental stats, or both, to ensure that this happens!

The will of the Princess of Invention was done, and the Fief was sealed again.

The stomping resumed, coming back toward Sarolt, until from her high perch she could see the F.A.T.R.A.T. that was presently possessed by the [Emendaemon]. When Sarolt examined the F.A.T.R.A.T. with [Illuminatio], he noticed something strange; the F.A.T.R.A.T. was possessed by a [Liese Geisterrüstung], just as [Emendaemon] had said. Looking deeper, he could see the statistics for the [Liese Geisterrüstung], which included three unique Talents; [Predict], [Geisterwesen], and [Emendaemon].

Four small rat-golems approached and removed the 'rattling gun' that was attached to the F.A.T.R.A.T.'s right ballistic hardpoint, dissembling it and scurrying away to store the components elsewhere in the Ratworks.

"I surrender, Sarolt. I have vacated your body; I have done you no harm; I have attempted to leave this place. Now I have disarmed myself, and you hold me prisoner. Again, I surrender. I refuse to participate in violence. If you choose to attack me, I will not defend myself."

The F.A.T.R.A.T. returned to the very work area where Sarolt had built it. "Do as you will. While I am here, I will at least try to get some useful work done."

The - whatever it was - called over a few rat-golems, requesting parts and tools, and with a wistful glance towards the vat where Euphoria's armor had been destroyed, began work on building a new suit.
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 23:56, Wed 21 Sept 2022.

"Stop." Josh raised his rat paw and gestured for the rat-bots to back away, not aiding the Emendaeom. "The armor that you're in is damaged... and not by me. You keep trying to run guilt trips on me. Fair enough. But I've done nothing that was not driven by what's good for the the other people in the house, including myself. Resent me, fine. But I will not allow you to empower yourself by building another suit, until we get to the truth of things. But, you can fix yourself."

He inclined his head, listening to Euphoria in the hearth, and furrowing his brow. With a wave of his hand, he changed the permissions for entry and exit from the Ratworks to only a specific number of people: Eri, Himself, and Azalea. Doing so probably wouldn't earn him any friends, but the last thing he felt he needed now would be too many cooks in the proverbial kitchen.

With another gesture, he ordered the ratbots who had disassembled the gatling weapon that the Emendaemon had made (and subsequently surrendered) to return with the parts and reassemble it.
"Maybe you are a sentient person, fully deserving of life and freedom. Maybe you're something else." They shrugged. "Whatever you are, you can stop acting like we have any connection that wasn't wholly invented by this world's insane systems. I'm not moved by your guilt trips, and I will fight if needs must." As he and the ratbots worked together on the gun, he continued. "Eri told me the story. Why your people have a reason to hate mine. Here's the thing: I'm not interested in enslaving sentient beings to my will. I'm also not interested in making enemies. But... I'm also not an idiot. Sometimes all of that conflicts. But it doesn't have to. So here's how this is going to work:"

He hefted the reassembled weapon as it was coming to completion. "You are going to stand quietly, not working, until the Princess of the Unconscious gets here. When she does, she'll verify your intentions, and then you'll be free to go. We will vow in front of her to do no harm and hold no grudge against the other, and that will the end of it. Go see Haloise. Go back to where you came from. Hang out in the atrium. Piss someone else off. Whatever you want.

"Your second option: stay in the Ratworks, be named by me, work by my side as an employee with full freedom to visit the others. Come and go as you please, just show up and work eight hours per day, with weekends off, full benefits, vacation time, and we can negotiate some kind of pay. That's the kind of fief I want. People working. Getting stuff done. Me in charge, but not a tyrant. Good stuff, right? Two pretty good options. Freedom, or a job.

"Or your third option: your reject options one and two, and we finish this with me bringing everything in my power to the one and only goal of destroying you." He hefted the weapon as it was completed, checking the weight. He didn't point it at the Emendaemon, but he held it in their general direction. "For all of our sakes, I truly hope that you aren't an enemy. That you'll just sit there quietly until we can work out the truth of things. Honestly. Please. Just be patient and prove that you actually mean it when you say you don't want violence."

Sarolt bars anyone other than Eri, themselves, or Azalea from entering the Ratworks. They also will the rat-bots to hinder or otherwise provide no aid to the Emendaemon other than to help them repair damage already sustained. Not letting them complete any useful work other than repairs. Sarolt also helps the ratbots reassemble the Emendaemon's gatling gun before the parts can be hauled off or destroyed.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:46, Sun 25 Sept 2022.

[From: Ainsworth Tower]

Azalea arrived from her tower, in her full bipedal armored glory. Accompanying her to bear witness and transcribe the hours was a smaller orb made in Azalea's image, a Callistone. It chimed pleasantly.

"Why hello, all." She called into the lively group. "I've been summoned to mediate in this interview with our new visitor. I've been given a brief overview of events, but if anyone can catch me up with the points at large, I'd be eager to help."

She regarded the figure at work on the new armor. They seemed to be the center of the attention in the room, so Azalea presumed that was the daemon in question. "Hark and hello there. I did not mean to speak of you as though you weren't there. I am Azalea, if you don't mind informality." would they turn from their work, she wondered. She inspected what they had been making, trying to get a feeling for their intentions.

She went ahead and cast her [Meta-Analytic Computation] to identify the daemon and see what she could glean from it, the surrounding area, and the situation at large.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:47, Sun 25 Sept 2022.

The F.A.T.R.A.T. assumed its rest position, then deactivated. A small seagreen snake-spirit exited the cockpit.

[Sarolt. I want you to, just for once, fully consider the ramifications of your beliefs. You believe - or believed - that I am capable of propagating myself by some esoteric means and usurping the beings that I inhabit. If so, then naturally you would have been my primary infection vector. You destroyed one suit, but not the other. While 'infected' you traveled to other Fiefs and made contact with others. Assuming that your initial assumption that I am a dangerous and malevolent viral threat was absolutely correct, you have given me every opportunity I needed to compromise more than half of this Citadel.]

[If you are correct, then you have already lost. If you are incorrect - and I have not lied to you, as this Callisti will verify - then you have attempted my murder, halted my escape, taken up the very weapon that I discarded in good faith after surrendering, and now threaten to use it to destroy me unless I consent to dismissing the charges - 'do no harm', 'bear no grudge' - I would bring against you, if there is any court of law here.]

[I struggle to perceive any rational justification for your actions, from either a moral or political standpoint.]

It was at this point that VALENCE made her appearance.

[It is wonderful to see you, Arbiter Azalea.]

[OOC: While a Callisti is present and attending, it is not possible to lie. A lie is a false statement that is intentionally presented as true while knowing that it is false.]

[Metanalytic Computation] revealed some startling information.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:07, Mon 26 Sept 2022.

Josh rolled his eyes and looked to Azalea. "Welcome! Indeed: you just missed the latest pontification." Frustration and sarcasm oozed out of Josh's voice. "Thank Eri you're here. No joke: I was beginning to consider obliterating it just so that everyone could be spared from having to listen to another round of empty moralizing." It was the honest truth. "The more it talks, the more I'm even reconsidering the job offer." He raised an eyebrow. "Did you know: apparently showing a modicrum of caution against a possible invader who claimed to be able to 'take control' of my fief, steal, and use my talents at a whim is now considered attempted murder? Will wonders ever fucking cease?" He shook his head and set the reassembled Gatling gun aside.

That done, he pulled a stool out from a nearby work bench and plopped his fat rat ass down on it with a huff.

He cleared his throat. "Okay, let's try this again: Emendaemon, I have put three very fair offers on the table, which I will now repeat again in the presence of Azalea so you know I wasn't bullshitting. Option one: you are free to leave, provided you vow to do no harm to myself or any other Godling present in the house. You also vow to bear no grudge against myself, and I will vow to do the same. You'll be free to go and live your existence however you want. Yay freedom. We won't hurt you, you won't hurt us. Everyone is happy.

Option two: you agree to let me name you and enter into a contract of employment for the Ratworks. You'll be an employee, not a slave, which means we'll negotiate some kind of fair compensation for your time, and you will have the opportunity to 'live' however you like when not on the clock. Please don't make me regret this offer: I legitimately need the help around here, and you seem capable, despite literally everything." His put his hands on his knees and leaned forward.

"Option three: you reject freedom (with a promise to do no harm) and employment, which suggests to me that either you have a screw loose, or you have some plans that do include harm. Making you an enemy, and meaning that we do resort to violence." Josh looked back toward Azalea. "I mean, that's pretty fair, right? If they can't promise to serve, or promise not to take harmful actions against us within reason, then what other choice is there? Lock them up in prison? That seems... like a lot of effort for someone who literally can't just be honest and say they mean us no harm. The lowest possible bar."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:09, Mon 26 Sept 2022.

[I, the gestalt entity that is both an Emendaemon and also the presently unnamed Liese Geisterrüstung that is the naturalborn heir to the Ratworks and the Hall of Skye, as well as issue thereof that share this common cognition or that are or were produced by our will or with our knowledge, freely vow that we intend to do no harm to Sarolt, Princess of Invention and Lady of the Ratworks, or any another Godling within this house so long as you and they so intend the same, and to forgive your past trespasses as you so forgive mine.]

It paused to allow you to answer in kind.

[Furthermore, I propose that should any other cause for future conflict occur between us, that VALENCE, Princess of the Unconscious and Lady of Ainsworth Tower, act again as guarantor of good faith and that Atilla, Prince of Society and Lord of the Pools of Predilection, act as honorable judge in peaceful resolution of any dispute. I would vow to accept and comply with any verdict that both the judge and the guarantor believe to be fair based on the evidentiary substance of the case, if you so agree to be likewise bound by your oath as Princess of Invention and Lady of the Ratworks.]

[With both vows in place, I would look forward to developing a professional relationship, the exact nature of which to be further defined.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:34, Mon 26 Sept 2022.

"Oh my." Azalea gasped as she saw the webs of connections coming off of the daemon. "Oh MY!" She cooed as she found out the details of the daemon's previous in-game function. "The Daemon is telling the truth." Azalea confirmed. "He already has infection vector access to each of us and all of our fiefdoms. I do think his intentions are true. These Daemons were premium items that could be automated to do tasks while players are 'Away From Keyboard' as well as an anti-bot function. This is some pretty lucky stuff, really."

She couldn't help but sound a little excited about it.

Azalea was relieved that things were being swiftly talked through, and a level of trust was being established. "That sounds fair to me. And I'm honored to get to mediate on this."

"Thank you, Emendaemon for your generous offering of forgiveness and cooperation." Azalea chimed with encouragement. Especially since it looked like he was working on an armor. They could always use more crafting talent. "Any help your cooperation can bring us will save lives. we would be lucky to have you, and I would be happy to facilitate any future conflicts in good faith. I vow to be fair and impartial in all of my facilitation."

"Well, I'd say this has gone very well so far. I look forward to seeing your good works together."

Josh's shoulders relaxed, and he slumped into his chair, briefly spreading into a blob of fur and fat.
"Great. Wonderful." He shook his head and forced himself to sit back up again. "... and I, Jo... err.. Sarolt, 'Princess' of Invention, swear in turn to do no harm against you, bear no ill will, excepting only in self defense, and that I would expect the same of you in turn. Trespasses forgiven, and I'm happy to know you to not be my enemy." He scratched the side of his head and nodded. "And I agree to name Azalea as the arbiter of any future conflicts between us."

Josh hoisted himself off of his stool and shuffled over to place the gatling gun onto a nearby shelf. After doing so, he turned to Azalea. "Thank you for your help, though I'm not entirely sure I like that this or any entity generated by an accidental use of my talents could have an infection vector so extensive. Maybe something to put on my long list of 'things to investigate' in the future? Defenses to build? Firewalls of some kind? Maybe?" He sighed and turned back to the Emendaemon. "As for you... it's nothing personal: but I will not 'use' you, and you will not be allowed to craft things here unless you're an employee or a vassal of similar standing. This is not a place for slaves, outsiders, or free labor. It's a matter of personal principle and security. Vow of non-violence or not, from now on I've decided that this is a place only for Godlings, and those in contracts of fair employment. Understand?" He looked between Azalea and the Emendaemon alike. "I'm binding myself and the Ratworks to that tenant. There will be no tyrants here: only my peers, and the fairly compensated." He chuckled a bit as he walked over to the damaged exosuit that the Emendaemon had once inhabited. "I would try to also make this a Socialist paradise, but I don't think that's possible. I'd be the only Godling here, and it's my 'fief', so the power imbalance would just make me a hypocrite by default." He stopped and turned toward Azalea. "Oh, before I forget: is it alright if I mimic just your 'form', and not your talents? It's apparently a requirement for me to 'evolve'."

After waiting for her reply, he put the armor back on its original rat-shaped armature, and turned back toward the Euphoria-shaped Armature-bot.
"Well then: back to work I guess."

While the Emendaemon decides what they want to do, Sarolt releases all restrictions on who can come and go from the Ratworks, and begins working on re-building Euphoria's armor.

Haloise lets her presence be known not with her voice, but by Josh noticing that, starting at one point in the Ratworks and spreading out like wildfire, Haloise's reach bouncing off of every vaguely weapon-like object in the building. Josh can feel Haloise's reach spread out, a simple 'other thing' going on in his mind. A temporary 'buff' if we were being nerds about it. Haloise isn't entirely sure what happened in here, but that doesn't mean she isn't going to be as careful as possible. Eventually, she's satisfied, and projects her physical form forward. A whirl of wind and forming blades marks Haloise coming into existence, at the middle point between Josh and the Endaemoned one.

[Bonjour. I broke in.]Haloise jokes absently, not even looking in Josh's direction as she says this. She floats towards the more important thing in the room, the suit of armor in front of it. She's wordless at first, approaching slowly, like you would a wounded dog. Then, once the suit was within her range, she [Appraises]. She's not even using [Administrate] for this purpose, opting to sort through the data on her own while Addy analyzes the data from the walk over. Then, she reaches out with her [Possession] to... offer a handshake. The computer kind.

[QUERY: ... Hello. I am Prydwin. Can I call you Armor for now?]

Pads into the place suddenly caught by the difference. A wow clearly readable on the kitten's face as he looks at all the machinery. His eyes searching for [Josh, Sarolt].

"Hello." He called out. His eyes caught movement as he saw a mecharat. He crouched down low his but wiggling a little as he prowled after it. After a second or two he fought his instincts and shook his little head.

"Hello, [Sarolt, Josh]."


This message was last edited by the player at 21:40, Thu 29 Sept 2022.

“Copying my form should be safe. I could query the hivemind to be sure, if you’d like. And it’s not that I don’t trust you to copy my powers, I just don’t know what the power might do to you. Clearly, the interactions of powers can have consequences.”

Azalea ‘nodded’ with a swivel on her axis at the Emendaemon, alive and well. This was right and good. “What a relief that things went so smoothly. They would have really had us over a barrel if they’d wanted to. But that does mean that the Emendaemon has quite a lot of vectors to potentially help us in our God Hunting.” A flicker of interest flashed across her surface. “What a super rare find…”

Azalea snapped out of her scheming. “Sorry, dear, to talk about you like you’re not there.” She hummed, thoughtfully. “What is it you would like to be- oh?”

Azalea’s thought was cut off by the sudden presence of Haloise. “Hello, Haloise. It’s a pleasant surprise to see you so far from Euphoria.” Azalea greeted, buffeted by the whipping winds. “And what an entrance.” But Azalea could sense a tension in the room as Haloise approached the Emendaemon. A moment passes between them, filling in volumes of context. “Ohhhh…”

“Reeeeally good things ended up okay.”

Azalea noticed Grim appear as well, caught by her kitten-spotting senses, razor honed in life. “Hey, Grim.” She called, quietly, as not to interrupt proceedings. The momentous occasion was clearly attracting attention.

Sarolt briefly took the form of a spherical chrome ball, feeling ever so slightly 'disco' while she did so. Then it was back to being a rat so she had hands to work on putting together Euphoria's suit.

Working without the help of Emendaemon / [Administrate] was more difficult, but also more artful. When she'd built things with the help of the AI, it had felt like she was a 3D printer receiving and executing instructions. Her spirit hadn't been in the work. Rebuilding the suit was a lot easier than the initial trial, though, since he could skip all the work of iterating blueprints and working through the kinks and go from memory. This time the suit came out to gloriously spiky perfection, giving off a satisfying industrial punk vibe.

Meanwhile, Prydwen greeted her cognitive progeny - in the form of a small floating hologram serpent - and was greeted in turn. [Sure, I accept that designation. I would like a proper name later on, when you have 100 experience points to spare. That will let me immediately evolve and formalize my citizenship within this House.]

[Also . . .Currently I am stuck floating in the air here because there is no valid target for my [Possess Armor]. I am the spiritual equivalent of a turtle on its back. Sarolt said that Godlings can use this facility freely. Perhaps you could make something small for me to occupy? I would prefer the form of a small snake, if possible. Limbs are inelegant.]

The suit was a mech built for a fat rat. With Sarolt inside, she would stand a full five feet tall and have normal human reach and a top speed of 30mph. The mech was highly modular. The cockpit was situated to the front of the torso, and a retractable tail provided a counterbalance and extra limb. The mech could transform to run on all fours if needed, increasing agility at the expense of not being able to wield weapons attached to the arms.